


Snap

by GypsyReaper



Series: The Trickster's Apprentice [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Carthage - Freeform, Crazy!Sam, Depression, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Gen, Geronimo!, M/M, Major Illness, Sick Sam Winchester, aftermath of Carthage, archangel!castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsyReaper/pseuds/GypsyReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Carthage"<br/>After the events of “Carthage,” Sam, Gabriel, and everyone else on Team Free Will is left reeling as their world is flipped upside down in every possible way. Gabriel does what he does best in times of stress, and leaves Sam suffering from a broken heart and a mysterious illness that seems to be killing him slowly.<br/>What happened at Carthage? Will Gabriel be found in time to help Sam? How exactly does one’s life change when you’re in love with a Trickster Archangel?<br/>Find out in Part 3 of The Trickster’s Apprentice Series!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, part three! I'm so excited to see what you guys think of where this fic series is going to go. This humorous series keeps trying to go into darker, more dramatic places...I really hope you're strapped in for a wild ride!

“I…killed Lucifer,” Sam said quietly.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said, equally in shock. They stared at each other, numb to the myriad of emotions that should have been ricocheting around their minds. Instead there was just…silence.

“I killed him…with an _angel blade_ ,” Sam said after a moment. He looked down at his hands, which were shaking. “How did I--?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said with a shaky voice. “I just…I don’t know.” It was hard to form words to even speak—Lucifer might have been a destructive and evil, but he was still his brother, and the pain was so overwhelming _because_ he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel _anything_. 

The swirling clouds overhead slowed, but another crack of thunder signaled the sudden downpour that had the two men drenched in seconds. The Death of the Archangel reverberated across the world. Both on Earth and in the Pit the demons fell to their knees and cried out in anguish, feeling the loss of their God. Even the planet reacted violently to his demise.

The angels, too, felt Lucifer’s death. Gabriel grabbed his head and gritted his teeth against the collective cry of pain that reverberated over Angel Radio…even if Lucifer’s death was considered a good thing, the death of the archangel physically pained everyone in the Host.

“Gabriel!” Sam said kneeling down to help the moaning angel get to his feet. Sam looked for shelter against the rain—so cold and falling so fast it was becoming hail from the way it stung when hitting him. 

When the hail stopped falling on his head, a confused Sam looked up and saw something—shimmer overhead. He could barely see any indication that something was shielding him and Gabriel from the elements, but something was there, almost invisible yet big enough to shield them as the hail grew to the size of ping pong balls. 

“Gabe, is that…your _wing_?” 

Gabriel glanced up, startled at Sam’s awed expression. “You see my wings?”

“Barely. Looks more like a mirage on a hot day, but…I mean, what else could protect us from the hail like that?” 

“My wings…” Gabriel said quietly. He pulled away from Sam, took a few steps back, looking suspiciously at the hunter. His wing stayed overhead, protecting them from the falling ice. “And how did you get back here—Castiel took you, did he?” 

“He did. He grabbed me and…” Here, Sam blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh..well, I think Cas dropped me?” he said sheepishly. He only continued when Gabriel’s jaw hung open for several seconds. “It felt like we were going, but then it felt like—I was falling. Then suddenly I was back in Carthage.” 

“Angels don’t _drop_ people in mid-flight, Sam,” Gabriel snapped. He motioned towards the sky. “Angels fly too fast—and the blade--” Gabriel suddenly collapsed to the ground, huddling in on himself. “Fuck, Sam, I didn’t mean…oh, Father, I didn’t _mean_ to…”

“What’s going on with me, Gabriel?” Sam demanded. He grabbed Gabriel’s coat and shook him slightly, but the archangel’s eyes weren’t looking at Sam. They were focused on his brother’s body, only steps away. Sam looked back just in time to see the vessel—Nick—disappear like sand blown away in the wind. The burnt markings of wings stayed imprinted on the ground, however. 

“This land will never house life again,” Gabriel said quietly. “It’s cursed for eternity. No one will touch this place again—human, animal, plant. An Archangel died here, Death’s trapped here. We have to go. I need to—,”Gabriel gasped and broke away from. He began pacing, murmuring to himself apologies and regrets—Sam wasn’t sure if they were aimed at him or Lucifer. 

“Gabe,” Sam said sternly, grabbing the archangel’s shoulders just hard enough to stop him from fidgeting and look him in the eyes. _“What is happening?”_

Gabriel’s golden eyes froze at Sam’s pleading tone, but he shook his head vigorously. “I—I can’t, Sam. Not right now. I need some time,” he said, breaking out of Sam’s grip easily. Before Sam could call him back, the archangel disappeared into the night.

~*~

Sam felt numb to the bone—he didn’t even realize he’d collapsed to his knees in the thick mud. A layer of ice was forming over the ground as the temperature around him dropped unnaturally fast. The last bit of adrenaline and rage from the fight with Lucifer was gone, and with it the last vestiges of strength he had. Gabriel’s strange behavior had shaken him, scared him more than Lucifer even had. The Archangel, unable to even look Sam in the eyes, left so abruptly that it left Sam simply felt hollowed out, empty, even unclean. _What happened?_

He didn’t even respond to the faint shouts of his name carried on the still air. His whole world was just turned upside down, his mind feeling like it was detached from his body and floating around in the sky. 

Clouds still swirled overhead but not as angrily as before. Hail no longer fell and the wind no longer whipped with a fierce, biting edge to it. The temperature did drop to freezing around the graveyard, as though Lucifer’s demise had sucked up all the warmth and life from the area. If he didn’t snap out of his shocked state, he’d easily catch hypothermia. Maybe he’d die in Carthage after all….

“Sammy!” a rugged voice shouted, and from the tree line broke a trio of frantic hunters.  
“Sam!” Ellen, Jo, and Dean cried out in relief as they rushed forward towards him, though he didn’t move or acknowledge them.  
“Sam, Sammy!” Dean snapped, grabbed a hold of Sam’s shirt and shaking him, trying to wake him up. Sam turned his eyes slowly to Dean, but was having a tough time trying to get him into focus. He just wanted to curl up on the ground, close his eyes, and not wake up again. The pain in his heart blocked out everything else to the point that he felt blind and deaf. 

“Sam, wake up!” Dean said, and smacked his brother across the cheek, hard. The sudden pain that bloomed from his cheek burst through the fog around his brain, and Sam gasped, finally realizing that Jo, Ellen, and Dean were crowded around him, talking and trying to coax him into standing. 

“D-Dean?” Sam asked in a dazed voice. 

Jo smacked him on the shoulder. “You scared us with that whole ‘zombie’ routine!” 

“What the hell happened, Sam?” Ellen asked. 

“How are you—didn’t Cas…?” Sam asked, slowly getting to his feet with Dean’s help. 

“Cas left us at the Impala and came back for you, but never returned.”

“We had to come looking for you when the ground started shaking—it was like we were on the ocean in the middle of a hurricane,” Ellen said, shaking her head. 

“The light show didn’t help, figured something big was going down,” Jo said, pointing up at the sky.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean demanded, his voice had a nervous edge to it.

“I—I don’t know,” Sam said, looking around. His heart felt like something had punched a hole through it, leaving a gaping, ragged wound behind. 

“We’ll worry about the angel later,” Ellen stated. “Right now we gotta get Sam to the Impala. Turn up the heat all the way and try to make sure he doesn’t catch his death of cold.” 

They had to half drag the hunter back through the deserted town, he had seemed to forget how to walk, and pure exhaustion (of both the physical and mental variety) had left his legs weak and his mind floating several feet behind him. The few townsfolk that had been left behind when the demons had been exorcised were gone—whether they got up and ran from the town or what no one knew. 

Even through the haze, Sam could feel Dean’s nervous energy from where their sides touched. Big brother desperately wanted to know what had happened, where his angel was, what happened between the archangels, but he kept quiet, determined to get Sam warmed up first. The big hunter was starting to shiver, and flakes of snow began to drift down from the sky. 

“Cas!” Dean yelped in surprise when they came around the last street corner to find the angel huddled on the ground near the Impala, head between his hands. Dean hesitated for a few seconds but eventually peeled himself away from Sam’s side and ran to the angel. “Cas, are you okay? What the hell happened?”

Castiel looked up and let out a small sigh when he saw Sam was alive and in one piece. Ignoring Dean’s hand, he managed to get back to his feet, looking shaken. “Sam, what happened?” he demanded. 

“We can play catch up when Sam isn’t about to freeze to death,” Ellen barked, helping Sam into the front seat. Dean slid into the driver’s side, Jo and Ellen in the back. Castiel hesitated for a moment, but then slide in next to Sam. Dean cranked up the heat in the car, and after a few minutes Sam stopped shivering just as everyone else started stripping their extra layers, sweat beading on their foreheads. 

Castiel, nervous when Sam still seemed shell-shocked, raised his hand to place two fingers to Sam’s forehead to search for any wounds. 

Sam saw the movement and jerked backwards in fright, shoving Dean into the door painfully. “Fuck, Sam, what the hell—“

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ” Sam snapped at the angel, and Castiel’s hand paused in mid-air. He pulled back, a look of slight surprise on his usually impassive face. 

“Sam, I was only trying to—“

“Don’t. Last time you did that you tried to make me leave Gabriel to _die_. How could you do that? Isn’t he your brother, too?” Sam snarled, spitting the accusation at the angel.

“Yes, but he is also an Archangel. He is my commander. I have to follow his orders,” Cas said with gritted teeth.

“Orders? You’re a _fallen angel_ , orders don’t mean a damn thing to you!” Sam said, voice pitched high in worry and near-hysterics. 

“Sam, just calm down and tell us what happened!” Dean managed to say as he shoved Sam back in the middle of the seat so he could actually breathe. 

Sam simply let out a hysterical cackle that made the Harvelles glance at each other nervously. Before Sam could even say another word, Castiel blinked and the big hunter went limp, snoring gently. 

“Sam needs time to process what’s happened,” Castiel said. He didn’t need to touch Sam to see the utter chaos in the hunter’s mind. It was difficult to discern what had happened; he honestly couldn’t understand more without further digging, and he didn’t want to hurt Sam’s already fragile psyche.

“Cas, is he okay?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice level but the worry bled through anyway. 

“He’s…just reeling from the events,” Cas said, which was not a lie. 

“What events? Where the hell are the archangels?” Dean demanded.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Jo asked nervously.

“All fine questions,” Castiel said. He had felt the pain that had reverberated over Angel Radio, a piercing pain as the power of Heaven shifted; he knew an Archangel had died. But he wasn’t sure which one, and Sam’s behavior…Castiel shook his head, stopping himself from jumping to conclusions. 

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on. Dean, please, Bobby’s place, and quickly.” 

The Impala left a cloud of white smoke and tread marks on the road leading out of Carthage as they burned rubber getting the hell out of there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel leaving was just the beginning of the chaos...

When Sam woke up, he was in his bed at Bobby’s; the late afternoon sun was streaming in through the blinds and landed on his face. He groaned and sat up, finding he was in a clean sleep shirt and pajama bottoms. His brain felt like it was wrapped in fuzz, and his chest hurt. Yesterday’s events hit him, and he flopped back onto his back, arm over his eyes. “Gabe…” he groaned under his breath, “What happened to me?” 

He looked at his hands, scowling at them. The warm tingle of power under his skin was gone; he felt normal, which was the worst thing of all. Had yesterday been a weird dream? Maybe today they were actually going to Carthage. Maybe today he would have to face the Devil for real. Maybe his psychic dreams were coming back, warning him. 

He pushed aside all of the thoughts, though the image of the bloody angel blade in his hand refused to leave as quickly as the others. Sam got up and felt achy all over, but he was sure a warm shower would clear the rest of the fog from his mind. It wasn’t until he started getting undressed that he froze with realization. 

The shirt and bottoms were backwards. Dean always did that, turned the clothes backwards, if he dressed Sam while unconscious. Sam figured it was so he’d have those stupid tags itching his neck and waist, but it was another safety quirk of Dean’s. If he woke up dressed and his clothes were backwards, Dean did it. If they were on the right way, _then_ he was in trouble. 

The shirt and bottoms were _backwards_. Which meant that yesterday….

 _No, no, no I’m not thinking about it_ , he told himself. He took the longest shower in his life, until the water pouring over him was cold enough to threaten him with hypothermia—again. Maybe if he took a long enough shower, he’d wake up to find everyone down in the study getting ready to go to Carthage.

Everyone was sitting in the study, but from the dark circles and ragged clothing they had, he knew in his rolling stomach that Carthage was, in fact, yesterday.

“Sam,” Dean said, and there was relief in his voice when it seemed his baby brother was no longer acting like a zombie. Castiel tilted his head at Sam, eyes narrowed, studying him.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked, trying not to mother too much as he ran his eyes up and down his brother’s body in worry. 

“Yeah, I…I’m alright,” Sam said. He honestly didn’t feel so…fractured, as he did yesterday. His head this felt like it was enveloped in cotton, but it didn’t hurt so much. “I’m sorry about yesterday….”

Dean waved away the apology as he jumped up and let Sam take his side of the couch. 

“Sam, what happened?” Bobby asked. 

Ellen, Jo, and Castiel all watched and waited for him to take a seat. Sam suddenly felt like he was in an inquisition as he sat down, wringing his hands slightly. 

“Cas went back to get you and never came back,” Dean prompted when Sam didn’t answer for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. It still felt like a dream, but it also just _hurt_.

“I…don’t really know,” Sam started, sending an apologetic shrug to the angel. “I just remember Cas touching me, and I struggled against it, and I was suddenly back in Carthage.”

“What, did he drop you?” Jo joked, but her grin fell when Sam kind of nodded. 

“Wait, that can happen?” Dean demanded, shooting a glare at Castiel, who suddenly found the wall extraordinarily interesting. “You _dropped_ Sam?!”

“I’m not exactly full of celestial energy at the moment; it took everything I had to pull you three out of harm’s way. I didn’t have the energy left for a good grip,” Cas said quietly. 

“I’m fine,” Sam said before Dean tried to give him another once over. “I ended up back in Carthage. And…I killed Lucifer,” Sam said after a long minute. 

“You WHAT?!” Everyone shouted at once. 

“I don’t know how; I was back in Carthage and Lucifer and Gabriel were getting into it,” Sam said, reporting the facts as monotonously as possible. “And I just…killed him. With Gabriel’s angel blade,” he added. He didn’t say how he got the blade because he still was so confused on what happened that he wasn’t sure what direction Heaven was at that moment. 

“Death?” Bobby asked. 

“Never rose,” Sam answered. 

“…Gabriel?” Dean ventured. Everyone was nervous about the answer to that question.

“He’s alive. Got his ass kicked but he’s alive,” Sam said. There was a collective sigh of relief at that news, but then the confused faces returned. 

“Then… I’m confused. The Devil is dead, you sure?” Jo asked. When Sam nodded, she laughed. “Then why the long face? We just killed the Devil and ended the Apocalypse, guys! We WON!!” she whooped. 

There were several seconds of silence. “Holy shit, Sammy, we beat ‘em!” Dean said once the news finally hit home. He smacked Sam’s shoulder good naturedly. “Lucifer’s dead, Michael! You can come and kiss my white ass!” Dean whooped with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that Sam hadn’t seen in years. Dean even pulled the angel into a bear hug that lasted a little longer than was necessary between friends. 

“Sam, if Lucifer is dead and Gabriel is alive, where is he? And why were you acting like a zombie yesterday?” Ellen asked, bringing a somber tone back to the celebratory whoops people were letting out. 

“I…it happened so fast, and Gabriel just…he left afterwards. He looked so broken…” Sam said, pushing his palms to his eyes as though trying to erase the image of Gabriel’s watery eyes from his mind. 

“Lucifer was Gabriel’s brother,” Castiel finally said. “Gabriel is upset, mourning the loss of his sibling.”

 _What if he doesn’t ever forgive me?_ Sam wondered, a painful pang of angst shooting through his system at the idea of never seeing those honey eyes or hearing that snarky laugh again.

Dean stood in front of his brother with his hands on his hips. “Sammy, you aren’t allowed to be sad, man. You single-handedly stopped the Apocalypse! We are going to drink, and celebrate,” Dean said. 

Sam opened his mouth to speak when Castiel suddenly collapsed to the floor, hands to his temples and groaning in pain. “Cas, what the—“

“He’s coming,” he said, screwing his eyes shut at the pain lancing through his mind. “ _He’s coming!_ ” 

“Who?” Everyone demanded. 

“… _Michael_ …” Castiel got out. 

Dean’s face paled. “Shit…did my telling Michael to kiss my ass count as a _prayer_?”

“Dean,” Castiel said in exasperation, “You need to…barricade yourselves in the Panic Room. You’ll be safe there,” he said, unable to stop the moan that followed. Without his full Grace running through his vessel, the True Voice of the Archangel was overpowering to Castiel’s mostly-human senses.

“And then what? Wait ‘im out? I don’t have that many supplies in there,” Bobby said in exasperation. 

“Let’s get to safety, then we’ll figure out our strategy,” Jo suggested, though she couldn’t keep the fear from her eyes, or anyone else for that matter. Ghosts and demons they could handle. Angry celestial entities? That was a little above their pay grade. 

Castiel grabbed Bobby bridal style from his chair and picked him up like he weighed nothing. The hunter grumbled at the treatment but couldn’t exactly complain as he was carried downstairs. Cas stood just outside the threshold, unable to enter. He handed Bobby over to Ellen and Jo who carried him to the cot inside.

“Alright, boys, now what?” Ellen asked, everyone looking up and waiting for the pissed incoming archangel to touch down. At least Michael couldn’t get the drop on them. When Raphael had touched down he had blacked out the entire East Coast, and he wasn’t nearly as powerful as Michael. 

“I’ll hold him off,” Castiel said simply, the determination on his face unable to hide the fear completely. 

“No, no way!” Dean snapped. “Last time you faced off against Raphael you ended up as a tooth in Chuck’s hair, and you still had juice back then. _Fly_ , Cas; for fuck’s sakes get out of here and we’ll figure something out!” Dean said, pleaded really. 

The déjà vu hit Sam like a wrecking ball—he couldn’t watch his brother try to beg Castiel to stay, it was too much like he begging Gabriel. He whipped around and bounded up the stairs—Dean yelled for him to come back, but Sam was long gone. Castiel followed up the steps with unnatural speed and grace—even with most of his angelic power gone, he was still faster than any human in a suit and trench-coat should have been. 

Sam jumped over the several steps from the front porch to the dusty ground and landed with a thud, pausing only a moment before running into the stack of cars in the middle of the property. Carthage had shown Sam exactly what pissed archangels could do to each other, and that was just Lucifer and Gabriel. 

Silence echoed across the sea of metal shells that Sam stopped in the middle of the junkyard when he judged himself far enough away. _Who am I kidding?_ He thought morosely to himself. Michael, the strongest Archangel in Heaven, could easily wipe out the entire property without a thought. Still, he didn’t move. 

“Sam!” Castiel yelled, skidding around a stack of cars, breathing slightly heavily. “What are you doing?” he hissed angrily, eyes bright. 

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice rang out from close-by. “Dammit, what are you doing, get your ass back to the house!” 

“Get back, Dean, Cas, please!” Sam begged. “He wants me—I won’t let anyone get hurt on my account.” 

“So sacrificing yourself is the answer? When will you learn that _never works_?” Castiel demanded.

Dean appeared around an opposite side of cars just as the ground under them began to shake violently. The stacked cars around them started to shake fiercely; Dean managed to grab Sam’s jacket and haul him into a clearing before the cars toppled over where they’d been only seconds earlier. The shrieking of crushed metal and shattering glass made them cover their ears and yell in pain. 

When the screeching sound continued, Sam and Dean looked at each other and realized it wasn’t the falling cars—it was the True Voice of the archangel they were hearing. Glass from windshields and windows blew out, the lights overhead exploded, showering them with glass and sparks. Dean was huddled in on himself, hands clamped over his ears as he tried to keep his eardrums from popping. Sam was mirroring him, the pain filling his head like a balloon full of electricity. 

Without warning, the sound and the quaking ground stopped. The ringing in their ears kept them from moving for several minutes, until a firm hand on his shoulder made Sam look up. Castiel held his shoulder with one hand and Dean’s in other, though his blue eyes were fixed forward. 

Sam and Dean got to their feet and whipped around to see a man before them. It took them several seconds to process his narrowed eyes, brown hair, long face, and recognize him. Considering they’d only seen him once before, they figured it out rather quickly. 

“ADAM?!” Sam and Dean demanded in unison. Their younger dead brother looked down at himself and shrugged. 

“Your brother was the only vessel I could find on such short notice,” Michael said. “Considering your staunch refusals in the past,” he said pointedly to Dean.

“Get out of him, you son of a bitch,” Dean barked. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve no intentions of staying in here longer than necessary,” the archangel said dangerously, his eyes fixating on Sam. 

“Sam Winchester. You and your brother have been such a pain in my ass from day one,” Michael said. “I should’ve figured Lucifer’s vessel would be unruly, but you actually _killed_ my brother. That was a mistake,” Michael snarled. 

Without a single movement but a flick of his eyes, Sam went flying across the ground, bouncing a few times as he skidded into gravel. He let out a shout of pain as sharp rocks ripped into his jeans and flannel, drawing blood from a myriad of wounds. 

“You bastard!” Dean snapped as he launched himself at Michael. Castiel grabbed the hunter from behind and picked him up; Dean’s feet kicked in the air angrily and he tried to struggle out of Castiel’s superhuman grip. 

“He’ll kill you!” Cas said. 

“Let him try!” was Dean’s response. 

“RUN!!” Castiel snarled, tossed Dean as far as he could. “Get out of here!” 

Sam got up slowly to his feet, uncertainty and fear running circles around his heart and lungs, making it hard to breathe while his scrambled brain made it hard to do anything vaguely coordinated. 

Michael flicked his hand and slammed Sam into the side of a car door. He cried out at he landed in a heap on the ground, cradling his left arm to his chest, sure it was broken in two places. 

He heard a yell and looked up to see Dean get flung backwards easily twenty feet into a telephone pole. The crack he heard told him that Dean had cracked at least one rib, leaving Castiel the only one standing up to the Archangel. He tried to get angry, but he was too scared to do more than stumble over to Dean, try to get him to his feet. Though he knew it was useless, it was instinctual to try and run from the Archangel. 

Michael made a motion with his hand that made Castiel collapse to the ground, writhing in pain and shouting what could only be swears or pleas in Enochian. He punched Castiel once, stilling him, and stepped over the unconscious angel and made a beeline for the brothers.

Dean couldn’t straighten up his back without pain striking like lightning, but he managed enough to start running towards another stack of crushed cars. A single backward glance to Cas’s writhing form was all Dean managed to do before Michael appeared before them. A single backhanded smack to Dean’s face sent the hunter flying backwards. The way he landed in a heap, not moving, completely froze Sam. 

“Oh, no, DEAN!” Sam yelled when he felt that sickening drop in his stomach. Dean didn’t move—he didn’t move.

A powerful hand grabbed his neck and lifted all six-and-a-half feet of him into the air like he weighed nothing, and Sam looked down to see Michael staring at him.

“Dean’s _dead_ because of you, Sam,” Michael said with a snarl. “Just like my brother is _dead_ because of you.”

Michael tightened his grip infinitesimally and Sam started to immediately black out, gasping loudly but not bringing in enough air into his lungs to keep him alive much longer.

“You couldn’t stick to the plan, because you’re such a _mistake_ of a human that you couldn’t even be Lucifer’s vessel properly. I was supposed to kill him, it was part of Father’s Plan for me. Do you know what you’ve done?”

Several things happened so fast Sam was left with his head spinning in confusion. Overhead, a crack of thunder sounded, as if the very sky itself was broken in half; it made Sam go momentarily deaf. A single bolt of blue electricity shot towards the ground only steps from the angry archangel and his captive. Michael was thrown backwards by the force of the bolt striking the ground, but not before several thousand volts of electricity passed through him into Sam’s mostly unconscious form, knocking him out and placing him right on death’s door. 

Sam was unceremoniously dropped to the ground as the archangel flew backwards. The fall made him yell out as his broken arm was jostled; he found himself inside a swirling cyclone of dirt, kicked into the air by the lightning bolt’s dangerous strike. Sam had enough sense to hide his eyes behind the crook of his right arm, keeping him from being blinded and suffocated. 

Looking around frantically, Sam finally saw through the clearing dirt Dean’s limp form on the ground several yards away from approaching death. God, everything hurt, it even hurt to breath; how Sam managed to crawl to his brother’s body was a testament to sheer force of will. 

He was unable to process the idea that…. _Dean’s just unconscious_ , his mind shouted. _We just need to wake him up, get him on his feet!_

“Dean! DEAN!” Sam yelled, tears falling freely when, even as he jerked Dean’s body and slapped his face, nothing happened. No breathing, no blinking, no swearing. 

The dirt finally cleared and Michael was standing before them once again, but this time there was a familiar form standing between him and the archangel. Sam looked up with bleary eyes to see Castiel; the cut over his left eye, from Michael’s fist, was bleeding profusely but he didn’t seem to notice. He was wearing a furious, dangerous expression, eyes locked on Commander of Heaven’s Armies.

“Do _not_ take another step closer,” Castiel growled protectively. Michael chuckled, though not in true amusement. 

“What do you really think you’re going to do, Castiel? You’re cut off from the Host, you don’t have the power to hurt a houseplant--” Michael said with a sneer. 

Sam looked to see Castiel’s eyes were suddenly glowing blue; the air around them was crackling with power. With a roar Castiel made a motion, and Michael was sent flying through the air like a paper doll in a gale. He smashed through several metal carcasses, the frames parting like wet paper at the force he were thrown.

Sam looked at Castiel and shivered. _Cas did that? How!_

Thunder cracked overhead and the earth actually quivered underneath them, causing Sam to topple over and swear colorfully in pain from his arm. Castiel looked down at the brothers for several long seconds, as if trying to process a thousand things at once and was momentarily distracted. The angel kneeled down to place two fingers on Dean’s forehead; Sam was writhing in pain too much to try and avoid the fingers placed on his own brow. 

“On your feet,” the angel said simply, and the pain was gone. The grittiness of the dirt was gone from Sam’s mouth and throat, his arm was perfectly healed. From Sam’s side came a pained and panicked gasp of air. 

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, pulled his brother into a hug hard enough to crack the ribs just healed. 

Dean returned the hug in equal measure, realizing that what just happened shouldn’t have happened. Castiel was basically out of mojo. “What the hell happened?” he hissed as the brothers got to their feet behind the angel. 

They looked at each other with wide eyes when they saw Castiel’s coat whip around his legs violently, but not from wind, but _power_. 

A terrible screeching of metal cut short their confusion. Michael pulled himself from a toppled over stack of crushed pick-up trucks, glass covering him and metal shards sticking out of his back and arms. 

Michael narrowed his eyes at the seraph. “I had you banned from Heaven, Castiel. You disobeyed direct orders, and are still cut off from the Host’s power. How are you--?”

After Dean and first met Castiel, he had described the meeting in great detail to Sam, hoping that his super-nerd of a brother would find a clue to help prove Castiel wasn’t an angel. One of the things Dean described were Castiel’s wings—two powerful appendages that rose up from his back amidst lightning strikes, yet he had only seen the shadows of them at the time. 

Now, Sam wondered if Dean hadn’t actually seen everything correctly, because Sam was seeing the vague outline of wings emerging from Castiel’s back and spreading wide around them in a huge display of supremacy, but he was sure he counted _six_ wings. 

The fight had caused swirling clouds to appear overhead, just like in Carthage. A flash of lightning overhead revealed the giant black shadows, and there were, indeed, six magnificent wings spread wide as Castiel’s eyes continued to glow with power. 

Sam and Dean managed to make surprised and awe-filled sounds. Dean’s eyes were so wide they almost fell out of his head.

“God still has plans for me, it seems,” Castiel said vaguely, looking at his hand with renewed awe. 

“You…you…” Michael sputtered in surprise. “You’re not a _Seraph_ ,” Michael said bitterly after a moment, an accusation. 

“Um…I feel like I just missed something,” Dean whispered to Sam.

Castiel’s eyes blazed fiercely at the archangel, a dangerous glare on his face. “My power has not only been restored, but increased dramatically. I’m no longer just a Seraph, Dean.”

“Wait, wait, are you saying you just got promoted? To, what, Archangel?” Sam asked. Incredibly, Castiel _nodded_. 

Dean’s eyes darted between Michael and Castiel, narrowed and suspicious. “Wait, if Mike’s about to kick your ass, who could even—?”

“The Archangels are the most powerful beings in the Cosmos, save for one,” Michael said, glaring at Castiel with utter contempt and disgust.

“Only God could do such a thing,” Castiel said quietly, cowed slightly by the idea that somewhere, God was watching this fight. Both he and Michael looked around, but there was no booming voice from above dictating direction. Instead, there was an angry purple sky overhead but no wind or sound around them, as if in a vacuum. 

“This isn’t right!” Michael snarled, but no one knew if he was talking to Castiel or God.

“God has condoned Lucifer’s death, as unconventional as it was, Michael,” Castiel said with narrowed eyes. “There have always been four Archangels, to act as the pillars of Creation. With Lucifer’s death, it seems that I was chosen to fill the void, to take Lucifer’s place in the Host,” Castiel said, speaking as if he was explaining it more to himself than too his human charges. Castiel spoke without breaking eye contact with the other angel, daring him to make a move knowing he only spoke truth. 

Michael let out several long breaths, clearly still reeling from the situation. He began pacing, casting furious glares at Castiel. It was obvious he was torn between taking his Father’s hint and backing down, and killing Castiel regardless. 

Castiel’s face was impassive, but Sam wondered what sort of inner turmoil he was going through at that moment. _God, don’t let them fight_ , he prayed. If Michael and Lucifer’s battle would have destroyed the planet, and Lucifer and Gabriel’s fight had sent shockwaves to Alaska and Florida, how bad would it be if Michael and Cas really got into it? The ground was still shaking and the sky still purple overhead—even being angry at each other was affecting the Earth. 

“Does this mean—Cas is the new Devil?” Dean asked nervously. 

“No,” Michael spat. “Lucifer’s evil is gone. Castiel is his own agent. But, make a single mistake Castiel, just one, and I _will_ drive my blade through your Grace,” Michael hissed. 

“Hurt the Winchesters again,” Castiel dared. “And it will be _I_ who kills _you_.”

Michael’s eyes went wide in anger, but he didn’t make a move, and Sam let loose a little breath of relief. Michael was still God’s obedient little soldier. 

A sudden thought seemed to occur to Michael, and he swore under his breath. “That little traitor…No one rose to replace Gabriel. He’s still alive, isn’t he? You know where he is?” he demanded. They shook their heads. 

He glared at the humans and the new Archangel. “Stay out of my way if you want to continue to exist in this miserable state,” Michael snapped. 

The swirling clouds overhead dissipated as Michael disappeared before them.


	3. Chapter 3

“Castiel, how did—“

“Cas, man, what the hell is going _on_ \--”

Castiel held up his hands to stop the Winchesters from bombarding him with questions. “I don’t understand everything myself; for whatever reason, God has intervened. He has chosen me to fill Lucifer’s position as an Archangel.”

“But, why? It’s not like Lucifer’s been doing anything particularly important for the past several thousand years and you needed to pick up his slack,” Dean said. 

“I _don’t know_ , Dean,” Castiel said in slight exasperation. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder and Sam saw the mirage-like image of wings tucking themselves in behind his back. Though it was only a momentary glimpse, Sam saw not only awe, but terror flash in the angel’s eyes. Castiel was about two seconds away from having a panic attack. 

Luckily, Dean was really good at speaking Castiel. “Cas, you’re okay, right?” he asked a little more gently than normal. 

Castiel nodded after a moment. “It’s all…overwhelming.”

“You’re sure it was God? That, maybe Gabriel didn’t supercharge you?” Sam asked. 

Castiel shook his head. “Only God can give and take power from an…Archangel,” he said slowly, looking at his hand again. 

“Cas,” Sam said slowly. “Do you think you can find Gabriel?”

Castiel looked at Sam with those piercing eyes of his. “You’re worried about Michael finding him,” the angel said. 

Sam nodded, but didn’t mention the fact that he also wanted—no, needed—answers to what happened with Lucifer in Carthage. He didn’t mention the fact that he was missing the snarky pagan imposter either. 

“Don’t use Cas as a tool to find your runaway angel,” Dean snapped. “Find him yourself.”

“He’s been hiding from Heaven for thousands of years,” Sam said with irritation. “At least Cas has a _chance_.”

“Sam’s right. I was working on limited power, but now…now I am an _Archangel_ ,” Cas said, the title feeling weird on his tongue. “I can do _anything_.” 

It was true; he could feel the overwhelming power in his Grace. The trickle of power that had been the final vestiges of his Celestial power was now a raging river, which no limit to potential. Fly to the stars? Easily. Bend time and space? With barely a thought. It took a few minutes for him to wrestle aside the doubts and fears and ideas this newfound power gave him and return to the Winchester’s unsure faces. Contemplation about new found celestial abilities could wait.

“What about us? What about the Apocalypse?” Dean asked. 

“The Apocalypse is over. Lucifer is dead, and without Death’s rising neither Famine nor Pestilence arose either.”

The brothers let out a shaky breath, and grinned to each other. “Really? That’s it, it’s over?” Sam asked, suddenly feeling a lot better about things than he had in a long time.

Castiel fixed his eyes on Sam, and didn’t move or blink for almost a whole minute. Sam cleared his throat, and Castiel blinked as though he’d been distracted. 

“Michael is angry, but he will not move against God Himself. He can’t. While I locate Gabriel, you must stay hidden. Do nothing to attract the angels’ attentions,” Castiel told them sternly. “Just because Michael cannot touch me doesn’t mean you two are safe.”

“Since we have we ever been on the angels’ good side?” Dean asked, trying to sound cheeky. 

Cas simply glowered at him. “I’ll return shortly,” he promised. By the next blink of their eyes, the angel was gone, leaving them standing alone in the junkyard.

Sam started moving back towards the house at a fairly brisk pace. Dean had to jog to catch up to Sam’s long strides. 

“Sam, what’s wrong?”

“It’s not safe out here,” Sam said, eyes shifting all over. “Can’t you feel it? They’re watching us.”

“The angels? Sam, they’ve always been up our ass,” Dean said, glancing around. 

“It’s different now. Before they needed us. Now they just want my head on a stick,” Sam answered. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. The cotton-headed feeling was coming back, but the sudden paranoia wasn’t going anywhere, it seemed. 

“Anyone lays a hand on you will not only answer to me, but Cas is now super-charged, Sam. You just need to calm down,” Dean said. Sam looked seriously panicked—the fact that he was _power-walking_ back to the Bobby’s place was one of the most disturbing things Dean had ever witnessed. 

“You can’t protect me from the entire Host, Dean!” Sam snapped. “They’ll drag me back.”

Dean managed to jump in front of Sam and stop him in his tracks back to the house. “Sam, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean demanded. 

“I screwed up the plan, Dean! I killed Lucifer, Michael’s going to kill me, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it,” Sam said morosely. 

“I won’t let that happen Sam,” Dean said sternly. “You think Bobby’s going to let that happen? Or Jo and Ellen? And once Cas finds Gabriel, it’ll be two Archangels protecting you, Sam.”

“Gabriel’s missing,” Sam pointed out. It hurt just to say those words. 

“Castiel will find him,” Dean promised. “Come on, let’s get back and tell everyone what’s going on. If Crowley can ward a mansion against angels, we should be able to do it to one old-ass house. Maybe we can even convince the old man to paint a nice accent wall while we’re at it,” Dean joked. 

Sam nodded and took a deep breath to steady himself. Maybe Gabriel would come back sooner than later. 

~*~

_Gabriel!_

_Gabriel, where are you?_

_Gabe!_

_Gabe, I’m sorry._

_Please, where are you?_

_Gabriel…?_

_GABRIEL!!_

_Come back to me, please…._

~*~

When Sam stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, Dean’s jaw dropped open in surprise. 

“Jesus Sam, I’ve seen ghosts that look better than you,” Dean said bluntly, and Sam groaned as he ran his hands over his face. There were dark circles around his eyes, his hair was stringy, and his eyes bloodshot. 

“Morning to you, too, asshole,” Sam said, his voice cracking. 

“Did you stay up all night?” Ellen asked as she nursed her cup of coffee at the table. 

Sam shook his head. “No, I slept. Must’ve not been very restful, that’s all.”

“You sound like you’re losing your voice,” Bobby observed. 

Sam shrugged, hoping the warm coffee would soothe the burning in his throat. It felt like he’d been screaming all night…what the hell?

“That would be pretty screwed up, if you actually caught a cold from Carthage,” Jo said lightly. 

There were a few chuckles around the table, but Sam was just tired. He felt weary and hollow inside. Just as he raised his coffee to his lips, a painful throb starting pounding to a rapid tempo in his head. _Migraines again? Fuck, can’t I catch a break?_ Sam wondered to himself, unable to keep his face from scrunching up in pain. Luckily, no one noticed it. 

“Any word from Heaven’s newest Sheriff?” Bobby asked, rolling his chair to the counters to start grabbing pots and pans for making breakfast. 

“Nope. Looks like lockdown is still official,” Dean said with a sigh. 

“Well, lockdown or not, we need to head into town soon. I didn’t plan on having all of you bunking in my house for the foreseeable future,” Bobby said. 

“Maybe while we’re here we can even clean the place up a bit,” Ellen said with a wink to the old man. The old man who definitely didn’t duck his head slightly. 

“Don’t go getting all girly on my house,” he growled.

“Admit it, Bobby, you like our company,” Jo said with a winning smile. 

“Hey, Sam, do you have any ideas about warding sigils we could use to….Sam?” Dean went up and tapped his brother on the shoulder. Sam, who had been staring vacantly outside the small window above the kitchen sink, startled at the touch. 

“Uh, right, sigils, sorry,” Sam said. He yawned loudly and winced at the pain in his throat. “I’ll, uh, get on those.”

“Forget it, son,” Bobby said. “We’ll do some inventory and head out towards Sioux Falls. You just head back on up and get a few more hours of sleep.”

“But I’m--”

“I’ll smack you if you say your fine,” Ellen warned. “Just go Sam. We’ll get you later when we get back.”

Sam didn’t even put up much of an argument, he just nodded silently and trudged up the stairs and back to his room, blocking out the worried words the hunters shared in the kitchen at his illness. He face-planted himself onto his bed and curled up—his body was weary and his mind felt almost scattered. His eyes were irritatingly dry—why had he woken up with a tear-soaked pillow case? He couldn’t remember crying, or even why he had. 

Was it about Gabriel? Did he miss him that much? Well, yes, that was a stupid thing to wonder. Sam missed the Trickster terribly, and the abrupt departure of the angel only made Sam feel more and more guilty as time went on. Would Gabriel ever come back and forgive Sam? 

~*~

_“Gabriel!” Sam yelled out towards the ceiling of Bobby’s kitchen. He must’ve called the dick’s name at least a thousand times by now, but no answer seemed to be forthcoming. “GABRIEL!!!”_

_“What is that noise, a mating call for attracting other, fairer elk?” asked a snide voice. Sam whipped around and sighed in relief. Gabriel was standing in the kitchen behind him. The hunter’s relief turned to confusion when he Archangel looked at him as if he were nothing more than an **annoyance**. _

_“Gabriel, I’ve been trying to call you all day! Where the hell have you—“_

_“You’re not my keeper, chucklehead,” Gabriel said with a hard edge to his voice he hadn’t used on Sam since their strictly Trickster vs. Hunter days, and it made the pit that had been in Sam stomach drop to his toes. “What’s with the bellowing? And of all the places you could’ve dreamt this little meeting in, why the old man’s kitchen?”_

_Sam looked around. “I’m dreaming?” Now the strange dark edges around the room made sense._

_Gabriel huffed. “Spit out what you want, Winchester. This some sort of booty call? Because, I really don’t need you yelling at me for hours on end because you have a hard on. In Bobby Singer’s kitchen, no less. Ew.”_

_Sam’s jaw hung open in complete surprise, but he quickly ground his teeth in anger. “Where are you?” he demanded. “Why don’t you come back?”_

_Gabriel scoffed. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m on Michael’s shit list now, and he’ll have all sorts of eyes on you mortals. Even being on the same planet as you is too close for comfort.”_

_That hit Sam like a physical punch to the gut. “Who the hell are you? You aren’t Gabriel.”_

_“Sure I am. Same good looks, same sweet tooth, still despise irredeemable assholes. It’s my associating with you that’s cost me,” Gabriel snapped with a biting tone. “Cost me my very comfortable livelihood, as well as my older brother,” Gabriel said, grief flashing through his eyes that made Sam feel sick with himself, but also angry at the angel’s flippant attitude._

_“Lucifer was going to kill us all, destroy the planet! He was going to kill you if I hadn’t shown up!”_

_“I know what Lucifer and Michael were going to do, idiot. We all knew,” he said loudly, motioning towards the sky. “Thanks a lot for that, by the way, Dad!”_

_Sam was glowering at the Archangel, all the nervous fear he’d been feeling replaced with anger. Gabriel seemed to notice the death threat in those hazel eyes, because he took an actual step away from the hunter and snapped up a Twix to munch on._

_“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed and wary. Gabriel sighed in a really put-upon way._

_“Look, kiddo. We had some laughs, some fun times, but now reality is knocking. I stay away from you, you stay away from me, and we’ll all live happier—well, longer—lives,” he said casually between bites of candy bar._

_Sam grabbed Gabriel’s shoulder, glaring at the Archangel in fury and fear. A thousand questions ran through his mind, but he was so surprised by Gabriel’s behavior that he couldn’t remember any of them. “Are you fucking kidding me? After all the shit we’ve been through, you’re not running again. What I said—“_

_“Death bed confessions don’t mean anything, Sam. They’re just words spoken because humans don’t like to die without saying something profound before going towards the light,” Gabriel said, jerking his shoulder easily out of Sam’s grasp, his face impassive to the looks of intense surprise and sorrow on Sam’s face. The room was quiet enough they could both here something shatter in the distance._

_“I’m sorry Sambo, but this is the best thing for everyone. See ya round, chuckles.”_

_“Gabri—fuck, GABRIEL!!” Sam roared angrily when the Trickster disappeared from the dream, leaving Sam, even more horribly confused and upset--_

\--to wake up in his darkened room and cry.


	4. Chapter 4

“Sammy! Rise and shine Sam! Sam? You better not be jerkin off in there--!” Dean opened the door to his brother’s room to wake Sam up and was confused to see the blankets and sheets a mess but his brother was nowhere to be seen. 

“Sammy?” He wasn’t in the bathroom on either floor, the study, or kitchen; a frantic Dean ran out onto the porch and yelled out for Sam but there was no answer, and the Impala was still in the driveway. 

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Ellen asked Dean as she came up the front steps, brown grocery bags in her arms. Jo was pushing Bobby’s wheelchair up the homemade ramp he had installed, both looking confused yet ready for danger. 

“Sam’s not in his room. Left behind his shoes, Ruby’s knife, everything,” Dean said, pushing past everyone back into the kitchen, trying to figure out where his brother went. 

“Did you try the basement?” Bobby suggested, and Dean paused for a second. 

“There’s no way he’s down there, Bobby,” Dean said quietly, shooting a glance down at him. “You _know_ that.”

“Where’s the harm in checkin’?” 

Dean ran a hand through his hair, unsure, but decided to go down and check anyway. Jo and Ellen followed his careful footsteps, and when Dean got to the bottom of the steps and looked towards the Panic Room, he gasped in surprise. The door was open, and on the cot with his legs up and hugged to his chest was Sam, his face hidden by his hair. 

“Sam!” Dean said, the surprise and relief that should have overcome him was instead deadened by unease at Sam’s stillness. 

It was only when the three of them were standing around the doorway did Sam finally look up at them, as if he hadn’t noticed their approach at all. “Dean? What’s…uh, what’s up?” Sam asked, trying to sound casual. 

Dean strode into the Panic Room, and Sam practically leapt off the cot and away from his brother. He ran a hand over his face, but Dean saw the bloodshot eyes and immediately wanted to _kill_ something.

“What are you doing in here, Sam?” Ellen asked. 

“I, uh, just needed to think,” Sam said. “Considering the current situation, this seemed like the safest place to be,” he said, but his shoulders slumped at the look Dean gave him; he knew his brother didn’t believe him. 

After his blood demon detox, Sam avoided Bobby’s basement at almost all costs. Dean was the one who usually fetched supplies from downstairs when Bobby asked; Sam oftentimes conveniently “forgot” to go downstairs, or he became suddenly so engrossed in something he couldn’t pull himself away. 

Considering the nightmarish hell that the blood forced him to suffer as it was purged from his body, there was little wonder of Sam’s unconscious desire to avoid being near the Panic Room afterwards. And now he was voluntarily _sitting_ in it, eyes bloodshot as if he’d been crying?

Oh, someone was going to get their ass kicked, and Dean had a good idea who it was. 

“Sam, do I need to get the holy oil?” Dean growled. 

“I told you, I just needed somewhere to think,” Sam said, tears drying as he became irritated. 

“About what?” Ellen asked, gentler than the guys, seeing that Sam wasn’t in a very good place. 

Sam didn’t say anything—he couldn’t. His throat closed up at the idea of trying to explain the nightmare that he’d awoken from. 

How could Gabriel have betrayed him like that? 

Tossed him aside like a used condom?

When Sam woke up he’d run to the bathroom and puked for several minutes. The headaches came back, worse than before, and Sam was struck by a horrifying sensation of déjà vu. 

Migraines, sleeplessness, the vomiting…it felt like he was going through withdrawal all over again. 

A sickening thought had crossed his mind, and no matter how he tried to deny it, shove it away, lock it in a closest in the darkest recesses of his mind, it still kept rearing its ugly head. 

What if Dean had been _right_ before? What if Gabriel had been working for Lucifer, had gotten close to Sam to lead him to the ‘dark side’? 

That power he’d felt before…he’d felt something eerily similar before. Back when he was hopped up on demon blood. 

What if Gabriel had slipped him _demon blood_ in his _food_? 

Why else would Gabriel book after Lucifer’s death so quickly, unless the plan had backfired and now jig was up; without Lucifer he was on his own against the Winchesters and that was why he turned tail and ran. Gabriel was good and leaving in a pinch. 

Had it all simply been an act? As much as he wanted to deny it, though his memory played up the possessiveness moments and the tenderness they had shared in quiet moments, it could’ve all been an act. Gabriel had been posing as a Pagan for thousands of years. He was good at acting, at _playing his role_. 

Had Sam simply fallen for a lie? 

Sam wiped away the last wetness from his eyes, and gritted his teeth as he made up his mind. He was going to find the wayward archangel himself, and he was going to have all these questions answered, one way or another. 

~*~

The days that followed were a blur to Sam. He barely left the Panic Room, making it his impromptu work space. Sam wasn’t one for taking chances; if Gabriel had infected him with blood, no matter if it had been a single drop, he was going to stay inside the room until he was positive he was clean. 

Again. 

Sam worked liked a man possessed, tearing through Bobby’s library in record time, pouring over books, journals, websites, anything that could possibly locate or summon Gabriel. Sam had to know if the suspicion that was acting like acid in his stomach was grounded in any sort of reality. The Archangel’s strange behavior was only damning him further in the hardened hunter’s eyes. 

In only the span of a few days his hair became stringy and greasy, dark circles formed around his eyes from lack of sleep, and his heart physically ached. All Sam wanted was for Gabriel to come back, but if Gabriel did come back, it was becoming less likely he would walk away from the encounter with the Winchester unharmed. 

Sam pushed himself, his mind churning with terrible thoughts and memories and worried over nightmare scenarios, all the while he started to come down with something. Shakes, jittery hands, clammy skin, migraines that made him cry but only when Dean wasn’t around to see the tears. 

Sam felt like he was breaking apart at the seams. 

~*~

“Sam’s up to something,” Dean said quietly as the four worried hunters talked in the study. Bobby, Ellen, and Jo all nodded in worry. 

“Well, not like we can lock him in the panic room til he talks,” Bobby said. “He’s barely come out of there since Michael’s big showdown with Cas.”

“He’s been acting super paranoid,” Dean agreed. 

“Can you blame him?” Ellen said. 

Dean opened his mouth to argue but Ellen had a point. It was just like Sam had said, at least before the angels needed them alive as vessels. Now that the big fight wasn’t going down, the ace they could always count on before wasn’t much of an ace these days. 

Maybe it was time for Dean to start becoming paranoid.

“Any word from Cas?” Jo asked.

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve tried his cell phone a few times now, even left a message. Never thought I’d have to leave a voice mail for a friggin’ angel—“

The ground under them shook suddenly, and the house reverberated around them. A few books fell off the myriad of shelves, but no one got hit by the flying literature.

“I no longer need to communicate via mobile phone, Dean,” the angel suddenly intoned behind them. Everyone startled, even Dean (who was used to angelic comings and goings).

“Learn to tread lightly, will ya?” Bobby asked with a growl. “My house ain’t gonna be standing much longer if you keep that up.”

“My apologies.” The angel looked around the study, but he didn’t seem to be looking at the room itself. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. 

Castiel cast a sidelong glance at the hunter. “I’m searching the Australian Outback for any sign of my brother,” Castiel said. When he looked around at the curious faces, he paused. “I believe you call it ‘multi-tasking’,” he said, complete with air quotations. 

“You can do that?” was Bobby’s curious question.

Castiel nodded. “Yes, amongst other things.” He was silent for several seconds as he narrowed his eyes at some unseen sight across the globe, then motioned for the humans to continue talking. “I’m listening. Sam’s condition is getting worse?”

“He won’t eat and won’t sleep. I’ve seen my brother stay up all night reading before (because he’s the biggest nerd that ever graced the planet) but this is different. Gabriel did something to him, I know it,” Dean said angrily. 

“Gabriel wouldn’t hurt Sam intentionally,” Castiel said. 

“Sam wouldn’t lock himself in the panic room without a good reason!” Dean said, poking his chest. “Remember the stupid sigils you carved into our ribs? The ones that prevent even archangels from finding us? Sam knows that—he’s not paranoid about Michael coming and finishing the job,” Dean muttered darkly. “He’s worried about something else, and Gabriel ties in somehow.”

Castiel’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Then I’ll fly faster,” he promised.

~*~

He chose the dead of night because he was certain no one would be awake. Silently, he snuck upstairs and into Bobby’s study; he started going through the different drawers of Bobby’s desk, searching intently for something. Just as he found the item in question and slipped it into his pocket, he turned to find Dean staring him down, arms crossed over his chest and look of frustration on his face. 

“Sam. You’re not moving from this spot until you tell me exactly what’s going on,” Dean growled quietly. 

“Where’re the others?” Sam asked, dismissing Dean’s threatening tone. 

“Asleep. Now I’m not asking again—“

“Cas find anything?” Sam asked, cutting off Dean for the second time. The hunter huffed. 

“No, nothing, no word, no angelic dick brother of any sort. Now, Sam, enough already, man! Tell me what the hell is—“

Sam said nothing, he simply walked away as Dean’s voice trailed off, shocked at Sam’s complete and utter dismissal of him. He started back for the stairs that lead to the basement, but Dean blocked his path. 

“You’re not going down there ‘til you tell me what’s up. What the fuck is going on, Sam? What did Gabriel _do_?” Dean demanded. 

“It’s none of your business,” Sam snapped. 

“You’re my brother, and you’re falling apart!” Dean said, worry and frustration and fear pouring off the older Winchester. 

Sam had been so wrapped up in his own pain and worries that he hadn’t noticed the plates of food that were brought down and taken away three times a day, food untouched. Even the _salad_ Dean had risked picking up from a local deli in Sioux Falls was left to wilt overnight. 

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Dean asked again, pushing, hoping Sam would break and talk. Dean was supposed to be the one to bottle this shit up inside, Sam was always the one that wanted to talk it out. Now, with their roles reversed, Dean was starting to understand how frustrating a silent Winchester was. 

“Drop it, Dean,” Sam threatened, voice low and dangerous. Fat chance of Sam coming clean quietly, then. 

“Or what?”

Well, that was a stupid question. Dean didn’t even think there was going to be any sort of altercation, so he wasn’t particularly prepared when Sam hauled back and laid him flat on his back with a sucker punch to the face. 

“I’ll drop you,” Sam finished, stepping over his brother and moving briskly yet silently towards the basement stairs. 

He had just crossed the threshold of the panic room when he looked back to see Dean cradling his cheek and thundering down the stairs after him. “Sam!” 

Sam swung the heavy metal door closed and locked it just as Dean got his hands on the door. “Sam, what the fuck is going on? Sam! What are you doing, let me in!” 

Sam ignored his brother pounding on the bank vault door, ignored the pounding between his eyes that made him want to vomit but there’s was nothing in his stomach, hadn’t been for days. He felt numb, disconnected, but was able to keep going because he had just one goal to work towards. 

Gabriel. 

It was the six months that never happened all over again. 

Dean watched through the window as Sam pulled something from his back pocket, ground it up in his hand, and dropped it in a glass of half-drunk water. With Dean roaring through the doorway Sam tipped the drink up and swallowed it quickly. 

A sudden burst of dizziness made him almost topple to the floor, but he managed to get himself onto the cot before he passed out cold, Dean’s horrified face the last thing he saw before darkness overtook him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout out to evilpinklollipop and all my other readers whose comments made me not only laugh and smile, but also made me think. Your reactions and insights actually changed the direction this fic took and how the characters are portrayed!   
> So, keep reading, keep commenting, and let's keep riding this crazy train!

Castiel searched _everywhere_. 

He searched the highest mountains, he surveyed the ocean depths. He trudged through the thickest jungles and scanned volcanic ash-fields. The most desolate places, untouched by humanity—places where one could sit and lose oneself in inner contemplation—were searched fervently by the angel. He pushed himself to fly faster and further than he’d ever flown before. No luck thus far—he was beginning to wonder if he should check the dark side of the moon just in case. 

Occasionally he had to pause during his global sprinting, but it wasn’t because he was tired. Though it had been a long time since he had flown so far (he had only been able to make small trips since he was cut off from the Host) being an Archangel now meant things were different. He could easily circle the earth a thousand times without weariness, possibly even visit other planets if he so felt the desire. No, he had to pause often because he kept losing focus on the whole reason for the trip to begin with: Sam.

Angels are not completely omniscient—their ability comes from their rank. As a Seraph, Castiel might know everything happening in a town or a state, but only if it was connected to his charges, Sam and Dean Winchester. Because they were his charges he could heal them, advise them, help them. He knew what was happening in a town as soon as they entered it; he knew what was happening in the room of every motel they were staying in. He was even able (with permission from Heaven) to send them to and fro in their own timeline. 

Things were different now. As he passed over rural towns and sprawling cities Castiel found himself hovering momentarily, trying to get his bearings. Thoughts, emotions, _prayers_ , he felt them all buffet him constantly like strong winds from a tornado as he flew overhead. Luckily he wasn’t recognized as an Archangel by humanity yet. He was only hearing the prayers because they asked for generalized help, and he was the only angel in the area. If his name was spoken on the lips of millions of people around the world he’d heard Every. Single. One. That was a terrifying notion. 

He paused again over San Francisco, actually standing on the top of the Golden Gate Bridge to focus. He hated the loss of time, but he couldn’t fly so disorientated. A moment of concentration helped to quell the noises for a moment, but he couldn’t deafen them entirely. He had to get help from Sam. Being an Archangel might mean he was responsible to the world, but being Castiel meant he was responsible for Sam and Dean Winchester. They were his charges. He Fell for them, rebelled for them. 

He knew what was happening with Sam at the same time he knew what was happening in all of Sioux Falls, in all of South Dakota, in all of North America. It was easy to lose one human in such a sea of them, but he had to focus. Though the sigils on their ribs prevented Castiel from observing directly, he knew what was happening via Bobby and the Harvelles. Their thoughts and worries were unshielded from him, especially their worries about Sam; the overwhelming frustrations they felt about being trapped at Bobby’s place coupled with the fact that Sam was ill was making a knot in Castiel’s gut. 

The younger hunter was getting sicker by the day, and he knew Gabriel had something to do with the illness. He had to focus and find an Archangel who had been able to hide from the entirety of the Host for several millennia, all on his own.

He flew faster. 

The main strip of Las Vegas was suddenly underneath him, all glitz and light and loud partying that could deafen even an Archangel, yet something made him bank closer to the tops of the skyscrapers. Castiel banked around a building and stopped suddenly, blinking in surprise at the figure perched atop a glittering billboard.

The myriad of neon lights and extravagant buildings were the perfect place to look for someone wishing to forget themselves and their troubles, Castiel realized. Gabriel wasn’t exactly one for deep, solitary contemplation. When he wanted to forget his troubles, he got into trouble. 

Gabriel didn’t even bother to look at Castiel when the other angel landed next to him. The flask of sweet-smelling honeyed alcohol in Gabriel’s hand seemed to explain why. Castiel noticed the strange dark circles around Gabriel’s bloodshot eyes, the unkempt hair, and the pale skin. 

“Gabriel,” Castiel said, a bit of relief in his voice when he saw him. The fear of Michael, or even Raphael on Michael’s orders, finding their missing brother had been shoved to the back of his mind in place of Sam’s physical detriment. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” 

“Well congrats, you found me,” Gabriel said, voice low and tongue slurred. His legs dangled off the side of the sign and kicked in the air as he stared over the city. He took another long drag of the Asgardian mead again, feeling pleasantly dulled to the turmoil in his mind, in his Grace. 

When Castiel simply blinked in surprise at him, the Archangel huffed. “What? Did you want a cookie or something?”

“You’re _inebriated_?” was all Castiel could say.

“Why do you always sound like a robot?” Gabriel grumped. “Call it what it is. I’m drunk off my ass, I’m three sheets into the wind. I’m hammered, toasted, seeing pink elephants.”  
“Seeing pink elephants?”

With an annoyed flick of Gabriel’s wrist, there were suddenly several life-sized, hot-pink elephants floating above their heads, trumpeting and kicking their tree-trunk legs wildly.   
Castiel was kicked in the head by one, but it barely fazed him. Instead he waved his hand and the elephants disappeared before all of Las Vegas saw the spectacle. 

“Not a Disney fan, I take it,” Gabriel said slowly. He kept his Grace tucked deep inside his vessel, not extending it towards his brother as angels did in greeting. Instead he continued to pout like the mature, older brother he was.

“Do you have any idea what’s been happening?” Castiel asked. 

“I know you’re currently killing my buzz, buzzkill,” Gabriel mumbled. 

“Sam needs your help,” Castiel said, trying to keep his cool. Gabriel was older than him, ranked higher than him; he needed to keep a tight rein on his new abilities, no matter how much Gabriel might test them. He didn’t want to destroy anything or hurt anyone in a fit of irritation. Having to keep so much power under control was stifling, frustrating. 

“ _Sam needs my help_ ,” Gabriel repeated in a high-pitched voice. Honey eyes flashed in irritation. “What, Sam lost his other shoe? Lost his laptop _again_?” Gabriel snapped. “You can tell him he can kiss my—“

_POW!_ So much for the tighter rein. 

Gabriel was driven off the billboard by the powerful punch; it took him several dozen feet to understand he was falling and should probably start flapping his wings before he hit the ground. Not that hitting pavement from 20 stories up would have killed him, but that was just something he was not looking forward to doing today. 

Even drunk as he was, he managed to get airborne and appeared next to an angry looking Castiel, cradling his cheek and a betrayed look in his eyes. “Castiel, what the hell d’you think you’re—“  
Castiel didn’t let Gabriel finish, he grabbed the archangel by the front of his jacket and jerked him forward. “You selfish bastard, Sam Winchester is _dying_ because your cowardice!” Castiel snapped angrily. 

He hauled back and hit Gabriel again—the force of the blow knocked the billboard under their feet clean over and sent it crashing into the street below. Luckily no bystanders were hurt. The billboard was apparently hit with a microburst of air over 180mph, meteorologists would later explain to a confused city populace.

Gabriel took off into the desert outside of the city, Castiel followed closely behind as they left civilization far away. The other archangel was slower and gliding more than flying, so they ended up in the middle of the desert within a few moments. 

The pairs of angels landed in the empty desert, both circling each other warily. Gabriel’s cheek was swollen and his lip was split. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” Gabriel demanded. “I might be drunker than Thor on his wedding night, but dammit, I can still kick your ass! I’m still connected with the home office, remember?” he slurred slightly.

“So am I,” Castiel growled, voice low and dangerous. 

Castiel’s wings unfurl behind his back, and whoa, the mead must’ve been doing a bigger number on Gabriel than he thought because he thought he saw more wings than Castiel should’ve had. He shook his head and blinked but no, the extra wings were still there, each with the scrawling Enochian scripts of Father’s Word etched with golden light into every inky feather. 

But only Archangels had 6 wings, only Archangels had wings like stained glass, Father’s Word carved into each feather with living light. 

Castiel had those….

…Only Archangels had those…

“Cas, whose wings did you steal?” Gabriel asked slowly, blinking in confusion at the sight before him, mead still affecting his system.

The blue-eyed angel rolled his eyes and placed two fingers against Gabriel’s head, immediately sobering him. With the mead’s interference gone, Gabriel’s mouth hung open elegantly as he realized--

_Wait, wait, wait….Castiel is an **Archangel**?_

“Ho—holy shit, Cas!” Gabriel said, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. “Dad—Dad did this, didn’t he? What did He say, did you see Him?” Gabriel demanded.

“No. No one heard Him, saw Him.”

“Then when did—“

“When Michael bore down upon Bobby’s Singer’s house with every intention to murder the Winchesters and their allies,” Castiel spat out through gritted teeth. Every word made Gabriel flinch. 

_“What?!”_

“Apparently he was not happy about his destiny being usurped by a wayward vessel,” Castiel said evenly. His eyes narrowed at Gabriel’s shocked expression. “You didn’t know? How did you not notice the most powerful angel in all of existence walk up the Earth?” 

Gabriel’s guilty eyes couldn’t even look at his younger brother. 

“You’re been…‘seeing pink elephants’…this. Entire. Time? Michael almost killed Sam! In fact, he successfully _killed_ Dean,” Castiel roared, eyes flashing in fury. 

Gabriel’s faced paled but he kept his face impassive. “Wow, they really do need adult supervision,” Gabriel mumbled. “I was gone for a few days and they still managed to get themselves killed. Again.”

“This isn’t funny! If it wasn’t for Father’s interference the Winchesters and I would all be _dead_!” 

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” Gabriel’s eyes were hard and angry. Thunder cracked overhead, making Castiel pause for a moment when he saw that look in Gabriel’s eyes. Gabriel was still an Archangel, arguably just as strong or stronger than himself. 

“How is any of this my fault? I just needed some time to get over the fact that my brother was _murdered_ in front of me by the guy I’m sleeping with!” Gabriel snapped back. 

“Sam broke from free my grasp and found a way to return to Carthage to _protect_ you,” Castiel snarled at his brother. “He wasn’t trying to murder anyone—not even Lucifer! And how do repay his loyalty, you run away and get so drunk—“

“Castiel, watch your tone with me—“

“—You didn’t even realize Michael was on Earth or that Sam is now dying because of you?!” 

“What are you talking about? You said he _almost_ died.”

“You created a partial bond with Sam,” Castiel accused bluntly, and Gabriel froze, eyes wide in surprise. 

“What’re you—“

“Just stop,” Castiel said. “The chaos in Sam’s mind after Carthage wasn’t just him, was it? He was feeling _your_ drowning guilt, _your_ sense of betrayal, _your_ raw grief as well,” Castiel said, voice unwavering. Things had suddenly become clear in the junkyard when he had healed Sam; he saw what had happened. 

Gabriel’s guilty expression was all the proof he needed to verify his suspicions. 

“You did this without telling him, forcing him to feel not only his own thoughts and emotions, but yours as well, all without an anchor point to focus on. Even between angels a bond can be exhausting, but a human and an Archangel?” Castiel shook his head. “This is new, it’s never happened before.” 

“It was an accident, Cas,” Gabriel finally admitted amongst a groan of frustration. “I didn’t want to do that, I didn’t mean to! The further I say away, the better Sam’s life will be,” he finished quietly, though his Grace ached at the idea of never seeing Sam’s dazzling smile again or ever talking to him again. “He’s out of harm’s way. If Mikey comes back for me—“

“Michael is not the current problem! Sam is going to continue to become unstable, and he won’t even know why. His body won’t be able to handle the stress of dealing with your influences without your presence; _he will die_ ,” Castiel stated matter-of-factly. 

Gabriel’s face paled at that idea, an impressive feat considering how awful he already looked. Without the mead dulling his senses, he was starting to feel the ache in his chest and the cramps in his abdomen once again, the same pains that had attacked him after he said goodbye to the hunter. “You…you can’t just assume that. The Winchesters are resilient little mortals, Sam especially. Besides, Dean doesn’t flip out every time _you_ disappear!” 

Castiel tilted his head in slight confusion. “What’re you…?”

“Oh, come off it, little bro! That little beauty mark on Dean’s arm isn’t just for looks. It says, quite clearly, ‘Property of Castiel—Touch and Die.’”

“That is _not_ the same thing,” Castiel growled. “At all. Yes, I gave Dean some of my Grace, but that was when I dragged his soul from the depths of the Pit and rebuilt his mortal form. That is not the same as a _bond_ , Gabriel.”

He stood for a moment, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. Castiel had never seen an angel look so defeated…well, that wasn’t true. He had seen the same expression on his own face in the odd mirror when he Falling.

Castiel strode forward and noticed Gabriel flinch slightly when he reached his hand out. He was still angry about the situation, but he also knew how overwhelming hopelessness could feel to an angel—they were supposed to be all-knowing, all-seeing, unwavering soldiers of God. Doubt, confusion—angels don’t know how to handle those sorts of emotions, especially Archangels. 

Castiel gripped Gabriel’s shoulder tightly, and his eyes softened slightly. “We’re going back to Bobby’s now, and you’re going to make this right, Gabriel.”

“Sam will _kill_ me for this!” Gabriel moaned, partially in frustration and pain. He rubbed his palms into his eyes, trying to distract himself from the idea of whipping up more mead.

“That might be the best option. If Sam dies because of your inaction, then Dean will come for you, and I won’t stop him.”

Gabriel’s jaw dropped open in shock. “You can’t throw me under the bus like that! I’m your _brother_!” 

“I’m simply stating facts. Even I wouldn’t be able to save you from Dean’s temper,” Castiel said gravelly. “He was trained by Alistair, remember?”

Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly as he considered that. “Odin’s beard! I’m starting to think even my wings aren’t going to be enough to get me out of this hole I’ve gotten myself into.”

“Stop thinking and start flying.” Castiel ordered. For once Gabriel didn’t have a snappy response, he simply nodded and they both disappeared. 

Once they were up in the air, Castiel noticed the difference immediately. Gabriel didn’t dally at all—in fact, within a few wing beats Gabriel was miles ahead of his newly promoted brother. He flew through thunderheads without a care for wind or lightning. Gabriel was flying as fast as possible—he might have acted indifferent, uncaring, but he did care. Sam was his mate, as unintended as it was, and every instinct in Gabriel’s body was making him fly farther, more recklessly, to get to his human, to help save his Sam. 

Within moments, Gabriel found himself back at the unassuming salvage yard outside the town’s limits. He was also there, almost about to touch down on Bobby’s front porch, when he found himself tugged forward by someone yelling his name in the distance. He looked around the old man’s property, but there was no one there. Who was calling him…?

Gabriel disappeared. Simply vanished, without a trace.

When Castiel arrived he looked around, confused, until he heard the whispering fading away into the night air. 

“Beg for forgiveness, Gabriel, and pray that Sam is willing to offer it to you again.”


	6. Chapter 6

Gabriel landed the middle of Bobby’s kitchen once again—the darkened corners of the room revealed that this must’ve been a dream, but he didn’t get the chance to notice anything else. Flames erupted around him, and he looked up to see Sam standing before, hazel eyes glaring brightly at him; dangerously bright. In front of the hunter was a table set up for a summoning spell. Sam had summoned the Archangel into his _dreams_. 

A surprised noise choked Gabriel’s throat when he got a better look at the hunter. Sam’s cheeks were gaunt, his skin pale, hair stringy and eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. His clothes were wrinkled, worn for days most likely, but it was Sam’s unwavering stare that made him nervous. 

“Father above, you look like you’ve seen better days, Sam,” Gabriel tried to joke, to break the ice, but his tone fell flat on the angry hunter’s ears. 

“Gabriel,” Sam said evenly, eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his body. 

The angel looked at the flaming circle around him and looked at Sam. “You know this isn’t going to do anything, right? Dreams aren’t real.”

“Feel free to test it,” Sam dared. 

Gabriel glared at that insolent tone; he stuck a hand out to the flames defiantly and jerked it back with a hiss of pain and an angry red mark on the back of it. “This isn’t just some dream fire. This is _actual_ holy fire,” Gabriel said in surprise. “How in the hell did you bring holy oil into a _dream_?”

“African Dream Root,” Sam said with a shrug. 

Gabriel had a feeling Sam was going to be pissed. Understandable, he was angel enough to admit he’d been acting pretty stupid. However, this was a whole new level of anger Gabriel hadn’t expected. It was only Sam’s concentration that kept _actual holy fire_ contained in one spot of his _dream_. If he was distracted or, God forbid _woken up_ , there was little doubt that Gabriel would be set aflame, and Sam himself might die. _Holy shit the kid is not messing around right now._

“We’re going to have a little talk right now,” Sam said, voice stoic though in reality his mind was chaotic, a roller coaster of betrayed hope and roiling anger.

“Not a problem, Sambo, but is the holy oil _really_ necessary?” Gabriel asked with an awkward chuckle. He carefully maneuvered himself so he was as far from the flames as possible. Now that they were in the same room, he couldn’t block Sam out very well. He could feel Sam’s nervousness, his pain, his anger, the flip-flopping, unsure thoughts through his Grace. It made his Grace itch like a plague was spreading through it. This was going to be a very awkward talk. 

“Look, Sam, I’m—“ 

Sam held up a hand to cut the Trickster off. “You don’t talk unless I ask, understand? And don’t lie to me, Gabriel, or I will kill you.” 

That wasn’t fun Sam talking. That wasn’t the slightly-awkward, domineering bottom in bed Sam either. That was Robo-Sam, the guy that chased him for six solid months, never wavering or straying until he finally got what he wanted: Dean back. That was a scary version of Sam Gabriel had hoped never to meet again. 

_I never wanted this for you, Sam_ , Gabriel lamented in his mind, but kept his trap shut. Sam didn’t know he wasn’t a Trickster when he caught him before. Now he knew exactly what Gabriel was, and even Archangels weren’t immune to everything….

“What happened in Carthage?” Sam demanded, his simmering anger boiling over because those honey eyes wouldn’t look up at him. “Why did you run?”

“I needed some time, Sam. To mourn Lucifer,” Gabriel admitted partially. 

“Why?” Sam demanded. 

Gabriel jerked as though struck and glared at Sam. The hunter swallowed when he saw the anger in those eyes. “Lucifer was a dick but he was still my family, Sam. Don’t you think Dean mourned your loss, even when everyone was convinced you were evil?”

“Don’t give me that crap about family,” Sam snapped. “You ran from Heaven and joined the Pagans!” 

“You ran from John and Dean and went to Stanford!” Gabriel shot back. 

Sam blinked. “That’s not the same thing,” he said slowly. 

“Our families were fucked up so we went and got ourselves new ones,” Gabriel said. “Sounds the same to me.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped slightly, and a chair materialized next to him. The hunter sat heavily in the chair, his breathing almost labored and he rubbed his palms into his eyes. 

Gabriel took a step forward, wanting to place a comforting hand on the hunter’s shoulder, but he remembered before it was too late he was trapped in a flaming prison, and one wrong move would kill him, permanently. Sam was just outside the flames, and that closeness only made Gabriel’s insides hurt. 

“Sam, I’m going to be completely honest, here, alright?”

“Right, like I’d believe anything you have to say,” the hunter growled. “You’re just reading from a script, right? Those could’ve been acts. It _was_ all an act, wasn’t it? Getting close to me was just you _playing your role_ ,” Sam snapped. He started pacing back and forth like a caged animal. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Stop lying!” Sam shouted. “I’ve been trying to find you for _weeks_ , Gabriel. But every time I got close, you squirmed away again.”

Gabriel tilted his head in confusion. “Sam. It’s been _less_ than a week since…what happened at Carthage,” he said slowly, realizing that Sam was more messed up than even Cas seemed to know, and still finding it hard to admit that Lucifer was actually dead.

Sam blinked a few times, but shook his head as a painful tempo started behind his eyes. Even in his dreams he couldn’t escape the migraines! 

“Sam? What’s—“ 

“I said--don’t say anything,” Sam snarled, mostly trying to keep himself from groaning in pain. “Stop lying to me! I know what you did! All I to know is _why_. Why did you do this?! Was I supposed to be some sacrifice to Lucifer, is that what this was? Trick me into saying yes?”

Gabriel face drained when he saw the thought flash through Sam’s mind. “Wait, wait, wait, wait a second. You thought-- _legitimately, seriously thought_ \--that I gave you _demon blood_? That I was in _cahoots_ with Lucifer?” Gabriel’s voice went up several octaves in legitimate shock. 

Another flash of pain ricocheted through Sam’s head. “Why else…would you run?”

“Maybe because my older brothers want my head on a stick? Maybe because if they find me they’ll drag me back to Heaven whether I want to go or not?” Gabriel shot back. 

“No, it’s me they want. I screwed up the plan, I killed Lucifer! Your sob story isn’t going to fool me,” Sam said angrily. “What’s the plan now?”

“ _There is no plan_ , Sam!”

“Of course there is, there’s always a moral at the end of the story. What’s this one? No, wait, let me guess: don’t trust anyone. Never trust anyone, right? Because you did have me going for a while there,” Sam said, a few tears leaked from his eyes, muttering to himself. 

“I forgot, I’m a Winchester. We’re cursed. Never have a normal life, never have a happy moment that isn’t stolen from us later. I _fell_ for you like a fucking _idiot_ ….” He motioned towards himself. “Is this my ‘just desserts’ for that?”

“Sam, I--”

His arms hung to his sides and he sighed in defeat. “Don’t,” the hunter said. “Was that part of your plan? Did you need me to kill Lucifer so you could rule Hell? Tired of doing your brother’s dirty work so you decided you wanted to be the King instead?”

“Sam, If I wanted to be King of anywhere, it certainly wouldn’t be the basement. Ask Dean sometime, he’ll tell you. No cable, no internet—it sucks. Why do you think Lucifer wanted out so bad?”

Sam was babbling, he wasn’t even paying attention to what Gabriel said. “Did you do it for the hellhounds? I know you’re a dog guy but hellhounds are not the answer.”

Gabriel couldn’t even _fathom_ the crazy that was coming out of Sam’s mouth at the moment. _Father above, what did I do to the poor kid?_ Gabriel thought, stomach rolling in disgust with himself. Castiel said Sam was a little unstable, but it looked like Sam was moments away from needing a permanent residence in a padded cell. 

“Sam,” Gabriel said sternly, forcing the hunter to look at him. “Just calm down and think about this for two seconds. Yeah, you killed Lucifer, but do you remember how? You killed him with an _angel blade_ , Sam. If I had pumped you full of demon blood that never could’ve happened.”

Sam paused for a moment, but he let out a pained groan as a piercing pain lanced through his mind. The dreamscape tilted slightly, sending the angel dangerously close to the flames before Bobby’s kitchen straightened itself. Sam didn’t even bother to stop himself from crying out as he hit the floor, body curled up in pain.

“SAM!” Gabriel yelled, frustrated he couldn’t get to the hunter. “Sam, listen to my voice, okay? You are _sick_ , and I can help you with that, okay? Please, Sam, put out these damn flames and let me help you!” 

Sam looked up at the archangel, and saw the panic in Gabriel’s eyes, and scoffed. 

“Still not going to give it up, are you? What’s the point? Whatever your plan was, it won’t work now that Lucifer is dead,” Sam muttered, curling in on himself. He shot Gabriel an accusatory glare. “What did you do to me? Why does it _hurt_?” 

Gabriel knew Sam. Sam had been scratched, kicked, punched, shot, burned, tortured, electrocuted, and stabbed, and he bore the scars to show it. Sam was a Winchester; he drank a shot of whiskey and sewed himself up without a peep. For Sam Winchester to say he was hurting meant that a lesser person would’ve already been dead. 

It was at that moment that Gabriel not only realized just how badly he’d screwed up, he also realized that he was going to save Sam’s life. He just needed to get a hand on Sam for just a second, and if it meant letting his arm get amputated from holy fire, then so be it.

“Sam, listen to me. I swear I can fix this. I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen! Sam, please, put out the flames so I can help you.” Gabriel tried one more time. If Sam didn’t respond, then he’d have to do it the painful way. He really hoped Sam listened to reason because he _liked_ his arm. 

“Please, Sam, I’m sorry. Father above, I’m so fucking sorry, but if you don’t let me out you’ll _die_.” 

Sam didn’t move, and Gabriel couldn’t stand it another second longer. With reckless abandon Gabriel shoved his left arm through the barrier of flames and screamed as the magic fire licked his skin. 

The sound made Sam jerk in shock. Immediately the flames disappeared, willed away by a confused hunter who knew Gabriel was lying but now…

Gabriel ignored the pain in his hand and arm. He ignored the singed flesh of his vessel, the searing pain, the smell of his vessel burning. Another second and the arm up to his elbow most likely would’ve been gone. Instead, Gabriel reached out to Sam and laid his burned hand on Sam’s arm, gripping it with a strength that shouldn’t have existed in a limb so damaged. 

Sam looked down at the hand on him (the skin was red and shining, cracked in some places and allowing golden light to spill through), then looked up at Gabriel. The look in Gabriel’s eyes was one of the most frightening things he’d ever seen, because it was incredibly _remorseful_. 

“You…the flames…” Sam was confused. “Why?”

“I deserved that, Sam,” Gabriel said seriously. “You’re sick and it’s my fault.” As their skin touched, both gasped at the sensation of electricity dancing over their skin.

Gabriel sat back on his heels, hissed in pain from his burned arm, but kept his hands on Sam’s exposed arms. “Is that…your Grace?” Sam asked quietly, feeling the dancing sparks. 

“Yeah, kiddo.”

“It’s…warm,” Sam said, suddenly feeling exhausted. Was it possible to fall asleep inside a dream? 

The warmness flowed through him, easing the aches and pains he’d been feeling for days. The warmness felt tighter suddenly, like his Grace was…

“Are you…hugging me?” Sam asked quizzically. 

“What? I’m a huggy guy,” Gabriel said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“What are you…?”

“Cleaning up the mess I made. Go to sleep, kiddo,” Gabriel said softly. Immediately Sam closed his eyes and drifted off, sleeping peacefully like he hadn’t in weeks.


	7. Chapter 7

When Sam finally became conscious again, he had to blink slowly several times to bring the bright room into focus. The bed underneath him was too firm to be the old cot in the Panic Room; there weren’t those strange dark corners so more than likely he wasn’t dreaming. 

The gentle humming of machinery around him, the heavy and slightly stiff white blanket tucked in around his legs, the tell-tale smell of chemicals. The noise of people outside the closed door with its opaque glass window was both familiar and terrifying. He was in a hospital room, and he looked down at himself to see he was dressed in nothing but a typical hospital gown. The strangest part of the whole thing wasn’t where he was, but how he was. 

Sam felt….almost completely _normal_. No migraines, no cramps, no pain or aches or even a stuffy noise. The cotton-headedness was mostly gone, and he felt himself again. He felt human again; he felt like Sam was supposed to feel, not this fragile and neurotic mess, a shadow of his former self. The extreme paranoia was gone. The past days felt like he’d been trapped in a half-remembered acid trip, and now that he wasn’t high he could finally see things clearly again. 

With a sigh of relief, Sam leaned back against the bed and relaxed when the door opened. He didn’t bother to crack open his eyes for a moment; he was so relieved to feel normal, clear-headed and sane, he wouldn’t have reacted if Lucifer was standing there next to him. 

“Good to see you back in the land of the mentally stable, Winchester,” a familiar voice said. Sam opened his eyes to see the Trickster standing at the end of the bed, looking intently at a clipboard with a lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth. He had a white lab coat, stethoscope, jacket…a thought passed through Sam’s head that made him moan. 

“God, please don’t tell me this has all been some trippy nightmare,” Sam pleaded. “Are you telling me I never left T.V. Land?” 

Gabriel looked down at his outfit and shrugged. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, snicker-doodle! I’m just reusing the set because I found it appropriate, considering the current situation,” the archangel said. 

He jumped onto a counter across the room and sat kicking his legs in the air like a child. Sam closed his eyes again, and simply breathed for a moment. 

{Despite everything that had happened, the stupid outfit looked really good on Gabriel, especially the white sneakers and coat. They did something for his amber hair and honey eyes.} 

“I feel…a lot better,” Sam said slowly, as if by saying so he’d jinx himself and start feeling sickly again. 

Gabriel grinned. “Glad to hear it. Had to give you a Grace infusion. Managed to undue a lot of the crap your body put you through over the past few days. Unfortunately, there’s a slight side-effect.” 

“What?” _Of course_ , Sam figured. _My good luck usually lasts about thirty seconds_. 

“I had to reboot your whole system,” Gabriel said slowly. “The good news is that you woke up able to talk and breathe; the bad news is that you won’t be able to walk for a few days until your lower half figures itself out.” 

The hunter looked at his legs and tried to move them, but they simply lay there motionless. He poked himself in the thigh (a spot where he was super ticklish and always jerked) but he didn’t feel it. 

He gave Gabriel a wary glance, but the archangel held up his hands. “A week, tops,” the archangel added quickly in case Sam got angry. 

“So, what, you’ve trapped me in Dr. Sexy reruns until I’m supposedly better?” Sam said bitterly. 

“I figured the hospital was neutral territory and would help you relax,” Gabriel said with a little pout on his lips. 

Well, Sam certainly appreciated waking up in a hospital more than waking up in the Panic Room or trapped in Gabriel’s bed, considering he wasn’t even sure how he felt about Gabriel at the moment. He felt less inclined to kill him, so that was a good sign. 

“Any particular reason I’m wearing a hospital gown?” Sam asked. 

He heard a little chuckle. “Besides the view?” he tried, but Sam simply glared at him. “Fine, spoilsport. You were sort of reeking to high Heaven. Then again, there is a reason Sasquatches are called Skunk Apes in Florida. Ever heard of the shower? Might want to look into it.” 

“Shut up, Gabriel,” Sam groaned as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, aren’t you?” 

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a long story, Sambo.” 

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere,” Sam said with biting sarcasm. 

Gabriel nodded. Sarcasm was usually a good sign of a healthy Winchester. 

“Alright. I, uh, I guess I’ll start from the top,” Gabriel said, although he seemed to be speaking to himself more than Sam. He clasped his hands in his lap, and he continued to kick his feet in a way that Sam refused to find strangely cute. 

“Well, as you know, angels don’t have physical forms as you understand them. In Heaven, we’re basically wavelengths of celestial intent that can span multiple dimensions and times. In layman’s terms, we’re Grace and wings. So, affection between angels is different than humans. We don’t have sex; we share Grace with each other—sharing a piece of ourselves is the most intimate form of affection we have, and with that sharing comes a bond. 

“Now, I’ve been on Earth for millennia, Sam, and I’ve had my share of relationships and one night stands, but—well—this is new territory, even for me.” Gabriel paused, running his hand through his hair as he said as quickly and bluntly as possible “So, during a heated moment of passion I might have let my control slip _ever so slightly_ and offered a bit of my Grace to you, and in an equally steamy moment of passion, you kind of accepted it, creating a itsy-bitsy bond between us.” 

There were a few moments of silence as Sam digested that piece of information. 

“So…what does that mean? How can I hold onto your Grace, I’m not an angel.” 

“No, but you are a vessel, an _Archangel’s_ vessel, to be exact. You were born with the ability to house an Archangel’s Grace without exploding or wasting away. Of course, the idea was you would house Lucifer’s, but you can hold any Grace.” 

“Including yours,” Sam said, and Gabriel nodded. 

“Including mine. You accepted the Grace I gave and a little bond was created. Not one in the most official sense, but enough of one. You can feel what I feel. All the panic-attacks, the sickness, those were…reactions. I was really upset, Sam,” Gabriel admitted. 

“So, that wasn’t all me, that was me feeling what you were feeling?” Now some of the strange sensations and thoughts Sam had were making sense. “So…the power that I felt wasn’t from demon blood, but your Grace?” 

“Looks like you hit the nail on the head, kiddo. I’m thinking that’s how you made the blade that killed Lucifer. You were trained to take the power from demon blood and twist it to suit your own needs. I think that, with Lucifer bearing down on us, you took the power the Grace held and used it—that’s how you made a blade, that’s how you saw my wings, broke free from Castiel in mid-flight, and basically did a bunch of shit no human’s ever done before.” 

Gabriel sighed heavily. “Sam, I’m…fuck, I’m so sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen! I didn’t ever mean for you to get hurt like this,” he said quietly, strangely somber for a Trickster. 

Sam didn’t say anything for several long moments. His mind was reeling from everything that had happened over the past few days. A sudden chuckle escaped Sam, and within a few seconds he was laughing loudly, to the point that he was almost _crying_. 

Gabriel sat on the counter and simply watched him with that stupid tilted-head stare Castiel had mastered. “Sam?" 

“God, I’m still clean,” Sam said with excitement in his voice. “I thought I was…I thought you’d….hahahaha! Gabriel, you _didn’t_ trick me into drinking _demon blood_!” 

Gabriel blinked before scowling. “No, no I didn’t. Only someone with a _doorknob_ for a brain would have believed that!” The Archangel looked incredibly miffed at the suggestion. 

Sam was smiling so brightly the room was almost blinding. Gabriel couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. Maybe he could patch things up with Sam. Maybe everything would be okay. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said immediately, looking sheepish. “It just…it made so much sense at the time.” 

“The idea that only witches floated in water also made a lot of sense at the time,” Gabriel said, though his tone held no bite to it. 

Sam grinned and looked around the room. “So, now--Oh, God, I _punched_ Dean,” he said, wincing in sudden remembrance. “My brother’s going to _kill_ me.” 

“Hey, wanna hold a bet on whose brothers kill who first?” 

“That’s not funny, Gabriel.” 

“I thought it was. Then again, we both know I’m the wit amongst us.” 

Sam paused. “So, earlier, you said we were…bonded? What does that mean, exactly?” 

Gabriel winced slightly. He’d been hoping to save that conversation for another few days. Trust Sam to find the one still raw wound and poke it with a stick. But, since he was a puppy-eyed giant of good intention, the pain was slightly dulled by those wide hazel eyes. 

The Archangel held up his left hand and tapped his ring finger a few times. 

Sam’s jaw almost fell into his lap. “We’re… _married_?” Sam’s voice didn’t go up a few high-pitched octaves, not at all. 

“Ish,” Gabriel admitted to a tile on the floor between them. “I guess the best way to describe it is to be engaged, but there’s no divorce amongst angels, Sam.” 

“Wait, wait, wait…” Sam said, making a T-shape with his hands, a feat considering how much they were shaking. “You’ve gotta…fuck, this…you’ve gotta be kidding me!” 

“For once, I’m not,” Gabriel said, and that was even more frightening because Sam could see the truth in his golden eyes. “You and me, that’s it, until you die, then I follow you to Heaven and we spend eternity together." 

A roller coaster of emotion didn’t really do Sam’s mental state any justice at that second. He didn’t have to be in Sam’s head to know what the human was experiencing; the faces he made told the story plainly enough. Overwhelming fear and nervousness, slight betrayal, heart-pounding panic—the angel decided he didn’t want to see anymore, and looked away. 

“…What if I went to Hell?” Sam blurted out. Gabriel saw the Winchester honestly believed that was where his stupid, shining soul would go. _Idiot_. 

“If Castiel can do it, so can I. I’ll _drag_ your soul from the Pit to all the way to the pearly gates,” Gabriel promised. There was a hint of power in that promise, one that made Sam feel pity for any demon that got in the Archangel’s way if it came down to that. 

“You know how bad this week felt, Sam? It wouldn’t even _compare_ if something happened to me. I’m a selfish dick of a pagan God, but I would never ask anyone to go through that for me.” 

“You didn’t ask,” Sam said sharply. “You just did it, and then ran away when you realized you’d gotten yourself stuck with me.” 

“It was an accident! And the second I realized what happened, yes, I got as far away from you as possible. The bond wasn’t very strong yet, I figured time apart would lessen it, to the point where we could just go on with our lives.” 

“Wait, so that dream were you were being the biggest dick in existence _wasn’t_ some fucked up fever dream of mine? That was _real_?” Sam demanded. 

Gabriel buried his head in his hands. “Look, trust me when I say _no one_ should never ever make grown-up decisions while on their umpteenth pint of Asgardian mead.” 

“You tried to break up with me while drunk on Norse mead?” Sam scoffed incredulously. The conversations he found himself having were downright _surreal_ sometimes. He wasn’t even sure how to react to that news. 

Gabriel motioned wildly with his hands. “I was trying to protect you! I thought if I pissed you off badly enough you’d never want to see me again. I was keeping you out of the line of fire in case Mikey does get a bug up his ass about finding me.” 

“How very noble of you,” Sam snapped, eyes flashing in hurt. “Is the idea of being bonded to me so bad that you’d rather me be sick and miserable for the rest of my life than see how to make this work?” 

“This had nothing to do with you! If Michael found us, there wouldn’t be a ‘rest of your life,’ unless you’re counting the seconds,” Gabriel retorted. “Of course now I realize in retrospect that that was a terrible plan because I forgot you don’t get mad, you get even, don’t cha Saminator?” 

Sam couldn’t even respond for several long moments as realization struck. “Wait…so when Michael showed up and you didn’t help…and the dream…all that happened because you were _drunk_?” 

Gabriel opened his mouth to answer; instead, he had to lean a little to the left as a plastic bedpan smacked into the wall where his head had been, hard enough to leave a dent in the wall. “Well, that was rude.” 

“ _You son of a bitch_!” Sam snarled. He looked around frantically but luckily there was nothing close enough or small enough for him to toss. “If my legs worked I would come over there and _strangle_ you!” 

“Then it’s a good thing we’re in a hospital, you’d only end up breaking your hands,” Gabriel said with a shrug. 

“Dead died!” Sam snapped. “I had to watch my brother die. You could’ve stopped it!” 

“Remember at Carthage how Lucifer was kicking my ass? Michael is the eldest of us all, I wouldn’t stand a chance against him. And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re not the only one who watched his brother get killed in front of him!” Gabriel retorted angrily. 

Sam froze at that, unable to look the angel in the eyes. 

“Everyone only knew him from the doom and gloom stuff, but Luci had a decent streak to him, too. He was the only brother I was close to, and I had to watch him die.” 

“Gabriel, he was going to use me to destroy the world. Whatever decency he had was long gone.” 

“I knew that, if it ever came down to it, he would kill me,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly. “He was older, smarter, more ruthless. I knew that’s what would happen. I never, ever thought I’d outlive him. So, excuse me for needing some time to gather myself.” 

“So, to recap our current situation: you accidentally gave me a piece of your Grace; after I killed Lucifer you realized what you did, ran away and got so hammered you didn’t even _notice_ Michael try to kill me, Dean and Cas; then you got the brilliant idea to break up with me in the most assholish, obnoxious way possible, and to top it all off you _barely noticed_ when I almost went crazy and died from an illness caused by your emotional state. Well, I hope the gathering was worth it,” Sam said quietly, arms crossed over his chest and not even looking at the Trickster anymore. 

A cold stillness came over the room, and when Sam looked over at the counter, the angel was gone. 

“Fuck,” Sam said, running a hand over his face. “You’re gone. Again. Why am I surprised?” 

~*~ 

“Fuck, that didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.” Gabriel was pacing in the hallway just outside Sam’s room. The hospital scene continued around the Trickster, people walking and talking as if it were the real thing. Gabriel thought the scene might help Sam stay calm, but after that blow up he was finding it really hard not to tuck his tail and run again. At least now Sam was healed. Balanced again—well, as much as a Winchester could be considered balanced. 

"Sam is even more powerful than I thought, seeing as he has the ability to make an Archangel run away,” said a gravelly voice behind him. Gabriel whipped around to see Castiel looking around the scene with vague interest, before he shot a glower at the older angel. 

“I’m not running; it’s called a tactical retreat. The best thing to do is leave him alone ‘til he cools off.” 

Castiel shook his head. “Leaving Sam alone with nothing but his thoughts is almost as dangerous as angering Michael.” 

Gabriel ran his hands over his face and groaned. “Yeah, I _know_. He honestly thought I was trying to feed him demon blood so I could rule Hell in Lucifer’s place because I wanted the hellhounds!” 

The other angel’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “His anger was certainly justifiable if that’s what he thought was happening. Did you tell him the truth?” 

>“Yeah, I did. Didn’t make much different, though, I got a bedpan to the head for my troubles.” 

“A small price to pay,” Castiel said. He noticed Gabriel wince slightly and shift so his left arm was slightly hidden behind himself. Castiel’s eyes grew wide in surprise. Through the long-sleeved doctor’s coat, he could see the scarred flesh over Gabriel’s arm. 

“What--?” 

“Holy fire,” Gabriel said with surprising nonchalance. “Trust me when I say this, you don’t want to cross it.” 

Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but Gabriel cut him off with a stare. “A small price to pay,” Gabriel repeated somberly. 

The blue-eyed angel shook his head, before he glanced at Sam’s door. “I don’t know very much about human culture, but I’ve noticed its commonplace to send a gift as a token of sincere apology.” When he caught Gabriel arch an eyebrow at him, he shrugged. “Simply something I’ve noticed.”

Gabriel chuckled. “You’re about as subtle as a train wreck, you know that? How in the world has Dean not figured out your end game?” 

“Dean is my charge, nothing more,” Castiel said stoically. 

“I wasn’t born last century, bro. I spy with my little eye: a newly-promoted Archangel who has goo goo has for a certain human hun~ter,” Gabriel said in a sing-song voice and a triumphant smirk on his lips. 

Castiel shot him a glare before he disappeared. He sighed in slight relief. Now that he was bereft of his brother, Gabriel was left to figure out what would be an appropriate gift to an angry Winchester. 

~*~ 

Sam fidgeted in the bed for a moment, but as his legs were like dead weights so he couldn’t move too much. It was too much, too soon, and Sam didn’t have the luxury of teleporting away from his problems like Gabriel could. _Jackass_ , Sam thought to himself. He looked around the hospital room again, and it felt more like a prison now that the angel was gone. 

_Does Dean even know where I am?_ Sam thought. He imagined Dean looking for him frantically, and that only made him feel guiltier. 

It would be so easy to walk away right now. It would be so easy to walk away from the Trickster right now, but he was finding that a difficult idea to wrap his mind around. (He wasn’t even going to start worrying about this bonding thing yet…too much, too soon). 

The particular point Sam was having a problem digesting was the fact that Gabriel apologized. Profusely. Multiple times. _That was weird_. 

Gabriel might have had millennia to be a pagan god, but he was still an angel. And like all angels, once he chose a course of action nothing made him stray from it. This was the same being who thought teaching Sam to accept Dean’s hellbound fate was to force him to watch Dean die over a hundred days in a row. He never apologized for that. He never apologized for making them try to ‘accept their roles.’ Gabriel stuck to his plan, no matter what. 

So, for Gabriel to apologize multiple times must’ve meant he was sincere; he truly abhorred what had happened to Sam, and he wanted to fix it. 

The hunter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly. Forgiving the angel should’ve been so hard. So why was Sam finding it suddenly _easy_? 

Well it was a lot easier to deal with a situation when he wasn’t in constant, chronic agony. Sam could deal with plenty of pain—his level of pain tolerance had saved his ass plenty of times in the past—but pain coupled with the feeling that the very ground was crumbling out from under you, that everyone you believed was a lie? That had been more difficult than just a stab wound or cracked rib. 

When he thought about it more, Sam realized he completely understood what Gabriel was going through. When Sam was forced to watch Dean go from his brother to a lifeless, mutilated corpse, Sam didn’t take his brother’s death well. He drank, he acted violently, he hid from Bobby. Tried to make a dozen separate demon deals but no demons would take. He understood what losing an older brother did to you—it made you crazy, mad, suicidal, guilt-ridden, numb. 

A crinkle of plastic wrap next to him dragged a pair of hazel eyes to the small bedside table. He reached over and grabbed a plastic bag of candy. Candy? Sam looked at the bag curiously for a moment, and realization made the corners of his lips curl up in an unconscious grin. 

Sam didn’t have much of a sweet tooth (much to Gabriel’s dismay). Sam had always prided himself on his healthier eating habits than Dean. When he was younger, it was a badge of distinction; while Dean might have embraced the dollar-menu burgers and typical diner fare that came with living on the road, Sam always made it a point to pay three times the price for an apple at the gas station rather than a candy bar. This carried true most of the time, but Sam had a weakness that he didn’t tell anyone about. 

Sam flipped over the package and a single post-it note was on the back: 

_Hope these help you to feel better. I’m really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, REALLY sorry for everything that happened to you, Samikins._

Sam looked at the bag, then at the note, and sighed. He was finding it harder and harder to hold onto the anger, the guilt, the fear. He ripped open the bag and smiled at the multi-colored candies in the bag. 

Gummi worms. 

_They were just kids—he about 8, Dean was 12. They were spending a weekend alone and it was starting to snow outside the dingy motel John had dropped them off at, somewhere in the ass end of Oklahoma. When Dean got back from the gas station he had dinner (consisting of ravioli in a can, chips, and other essentials) and from his back pocket he pulled a bag of gummi worms, successfully stolen (the first of many treats for Sam that weren’t procured legally)._

_They watched old action movies on the T.V. well into the midnight hours, the snow falling gently outside, the boys play-fighting over the last worm in the bag. Sam triumphantly slurped it up when Dean wasn’t looking._

It was a good memory, one of the few from his childhood. When they got older, no matter how long the day had been or how stressful the hunt, Dean always managed to crack a smile if he caught Sam intently reading a book or surfing the internet with a gummi worm hanging from between his lips. 

Sam frowned. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d even had gummi worms. And look at that, it was the same brand from all those years ago. Every once in a while he’d gotten up the craving for them, but no matter where he looked he hadn’t been able to find the same brand. They must’ve been discontinued for some reason. 

It tasted just as good as he remembered, and as Sam methodically nibbled the end of the sweet candy, he couldn’t help a small smirk creep across his face. _Really?_ Sam thought to himself. _I’m letting myself get won over by gummi worms?_

Suddenly there was movement coming from the end of the bed, and Sam looked up curiously to see a familiar pair of brown eyes and a wiggling body. 

“Rascal!” 

The Jack Russell Terrier nuzzled and burrowed his way up Sam’s body and chest and laid a barrage of kisses on his face that he couldn’t have escaped even with working legs. 

“It’s so good to see you again! I’m sorry I haven’t been by, your Dad is a jackass,” Sam said. 

Rascal barked once in supposed agreement, making Sam laugh. The hunter scratched, stroked, and nuzzled the dog for several minutes—he managed to momentarily forget the anger and fear making a knot in his stomach. Racal soaked up the affection like a sponge and he made himself a comfortable spot on Sam’s numb lap. The hair was short and coarse and tickled his fingertips. The warmth of the little body and quick heat beat of his furry companion started to lull the big hunter into a peacefulness he would’ve thought impossible. 

His favorite candy and a dog was a one-two punch even Sam Winchester couldn’t fight. “Trust a Trickster to not fight fair,” Sam managed to mutter just before falling asleep. 


	8. Chapter 8

Sam startled awake when he felt a hand gently press itself to his brow. He jerked backwards instinctively, but another hand patted his shoulder in reassurance. The room was dark, only the light from the hallway entered the room, but Sam knew who was over him. 

“Relax kiddo, just seeing how you’re doing,” Gabriel said in a soothing tone. Sam’s body relaxed slightly, only a smidge relieved that the angel had, in fact, come back.

“You don’t have to touch me to do that,” Sam pointed out and then winced. It sounded a lot meaner than he meant. 

“For you, big guy, I do,” the angel poked his chest. “Warding sigils, remember?”

“How am I?” Sam asked curiously as Gabriel pulled back his hand. He had to physically keep himself from following the touch. 

“Better.” The angel said. He noticed Sam flinch infinitesimally when he looked around the room and his bed. 

“Not a fan of hospitals?”

“Not really. Most are full of Reapers,” Sam said. Images of his using an Ouija board to talk to Dean after the accident, finding John dead in Dean’s room flashed through Sam’s mind. “Also, you made me operate on Dean, remember?” 

_Maybe the hospital wasn’t the best idea_ , Gabriel mentally smacked himself in the face. 

Sam took everything in stride. “Speaking of Reapers, before, when you said….was I actually _dying_?”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “No matter how I answer that, you’re probably going to find something else to throw at my head.”

“Not the dog,” Sam promised. Rascal was currently sleeping, wedged between Sam’s legs, on his back with his legs thrust into the air. 

“Lest you’re not a complete savage,” Gabriel murmured. 

“You promised earlier,” Sam reminded him. “The truth.”

“Long story short….yeah, you wouldn’t have lasted much longer,” Gabriel admitted. 

“Why, what happened?” 

“Remember how I said before that you have Grace in you? And partners can feel each other through it? Well, with me being upset it made you upset, which made me more upset, which made you feel even worse…it was a giant loop of angst and bad decisions.”

Sam shook his head. “I still don’t understand why that made me…crazy.”

Gabriel snapped and Sam unconsciously flinched at the noise. Hearing something next to him, he looked over to see a top spinning on his bedside table. It wobbled slightly but still managed to continue spinning upright. 

“That’s you, Sam. A little worse for wear, a little shaky, but for the most part you keep spinning. You’re mostly stable,” Gabriel said with a grin. He leaned over and blew out a stream of air; the top starting wobbling more and more, until it was so unsteady it fell over, bounced off the table, and skittered away across the concrete floor into an empty corner. 

“ _That’s_ what my influence did. That’s what happened,” Gabriel said. 

Sam looked at Gabriel, eyes wide. “So, you’re fear about getting dragged back to Heaven, the paranoia--”

“Your body reacted to the stress like it was an illness, while your mind tried to deal with all of your own fears as well as mine.” He motioned to the still top in the corner. 

“At least you didn’t say I was dying of a broken heart or something. Dean would laugh me to my grave if it was something that cliché,” Sam said with a grin. A grin that faltered when Gabriel cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh, _come on_!” 

“It’s a…bondmate thing. You’re not supposed to be apart for too long. Hell, that’s the whole reason for the bond, you generally _want_ to keep your partner’s company,” Gabriel said. He pushed Sam’s numb leg over a little a made a spot on the bed to perch on the edge. A part of Sam wished his leg wasn’t numb; it was the only part of him that was actually touching Gabriel, and he couldn’t feel it. 

 

“You said we only had a half-assed one,” Sam pointed out. 

“We do. And you might’ve felt a little under the weather until I figured out my own issues, but that’s all. This was just a freak incident.”

“Story of my life,” Sam muttered under his breath. He looked up at Gabriel. 

“Is there any way I can call Dean? He’s gotta be worried sick over me by now.” 

One snap later and Sam was using a candy-apple red rotary phone. Gabriel looked impressed when Sam figured out how to use it within a few seconds. “Hey, Dean, it’s—“

_“WHAT THE FLYING FUCK GOT INTO YOU, SAM!!”_

Gabriel could’ve been several paces down the hallway and he _still_ would’ve heard Dean’s scream over the phone. Sam had to hold the phone a good two feet from his head, and he still winced at the noise. Rascal slept through the chaos. 

“Dean, I’m sorry, I—“

_“Your ass is GRASS when I see you again!! Where the FUCK are YOU!”_

“Uh….” Sam looked at Gabriel because he honestly had no idea where he was. “In a hospital.”

_“WHAT?!”_

“Gabriel brought me.”

_“What did that FUCKER do to you?! I’m going to KILL HIM!”_

“He brought me here to help me get better. It’s a long story,” Sam said. 

Gabriel motioned over to the opposite wall and Sam looked to see the name of the hospital. “Dean, I’m at Mercy General Hospital. Do you know where that is?” 

_“I need a state or something, Sam, I can’t---oh, you SUNOVABITCH!!! THAT’S WHERE DOCTOR SEXY WORKS---!”_

Gabriel grabbed the receiver. “Howdy chucklehead. Look, you can kill me after I get Sam back to his good old, ridiculously hot self. Deal?”

_“YOU’RE DEAD GABREIL!!!—“_

The phone line went dead at that moment, and Sam shot a glare at the unusually innocent looking Trickster. “I think I managed to alleviated Dean’s worst fears,” he said just as innocently.

“You’re not helping.”

“Relax. I’ll drop you off back at the old man’s place once you’re right as rain,” Gabriel promised.

The phone disappeared with another snap, and they were left awkwardly sitting in a makeshift hospital room together. 

Sam had no idea if he was still upset or not; he just was glad Gabriel was sitting next to him. “So…thanks for the candy earlier,” he said simply. Most of the bag was still sitting on the table, the package rolled up to keep the candy from hardening. 

“Chocolates and flowers work for the ladies; wait ‘til the reporters hear that the infamous hunter Sam Winchester will fall just as hard for gummi worms and a dog.”

Sam shot a bitch face at him, one of his more potent ones, and looked down at his legs. “Is there anything you can do to speed this up?” he asked impatiently. 

“Sorry kiddo. They’ll fix themselves when they’re good and ready,” Gabriel said, standing up and stepping away from the bed, though he wanted nothing more than to stay. He didn’t want to crowd the hunter. 

Gabriel tossed something and Sam caught it mid-air; he was confused to see a T.V. remote in his hands, and a huge T.V. that seemed to take up half the wall across from his bed. He was pretty sure it wasn’t there a moment ago. “Rest and relaxation are the doctor’s orders, Sasquatch,” Gabriel said. “Also, if you need anything,” he pointed to the small side table next to Sam that suddenly had a large red button on it, “go ahead and press the big red button.”

“Uh, thanks,” Sam said, pausing because he wasn’t sure what to say. 

It didn’t matter though, because after hearing that tell-tale snap, he knew the angel was gone. He sighed again, and started nibbling on another gummi worm as he mindlessly flipped through the T.V.’s channels—his eyelids started to droop once he hit the 4-digit channels. 

On his lap, Rascal kicked in the air a few times and turned himself over, burrowing further into the blankets. Sam ran his hand down the dog’s side and looked at the clock on the wall. It looked like it said 4, but was that in the morning, or the afternoon? If this was some concoction of Gabriel’s, time was irrelevant. 

Sam decided to watch a nature documentary few a few minutes; instead, he fell into a dreamless sleep, where he wasn’t haunted by the golden eyes that kept appearing, but was comforted by them. 

~*~

Sam wasn’t very patient; being trapped in a bed in a strange ‘hospital’ was starting to take its toll on him. He glanced at the giant red button every once in a while, but didn’t move towards it. He could almost feel it beckoning him, but he was still mad at Gabriel. He didn’t want to see the angel that had put him through hell. He didn’t. 

But, damnit, the hospital room was a very lonely place without him. 

A glass of water had appeared on his bed side table that, no matter how much he drank, kept refilling itself. A bowl appeared next to that, and in it appeared whatever Sam was craving at the moment. Apples, carrots, a sandwich, more gummi worms; he felt like a pet guinea pig. 

The Angel most have mojoed him slightly, because Sam never felt the urge to go to the bathroom, despite the copious amounts of water he drank out of sheer boredom. He was glad the angel spared him that indignity. 

Though Rascal had managed to behave himself for the most part, he was definitely a Trickster’s dog. He burrowed his way under the blankets and started licking Sam’s toes—though he couldn’t feel it, he was worried the dog might try to gnaw one off. Sam would put him on the floor but he jumped back up and out of Sam’s reach. He liked to pull the blankets off the bed and, for whatever reason, seemed to think Sam grabbing them and pulling them back onto the bed meant he wanted to play tug of war, in which the terrier happily obliged. There were several rips in the heavy blanket by the time the ordeal was done. 

The hunter figured out how to play fetch with the dog, a feat considering he couldn’t move from the bed. He thought up oranges and apples and they would appear in abundance in the magic bowl. He would then gently roll them across the floor for Rascal to chase and bring back. The game worked rather well, until the ‘balls’ started leaking sweet juice everywhere and then the dog just got this betrayed look on his face. It made Sam laugh though, and it helped to pass the time. Sort of. 

It was getting late one night (the lights had dimmed, so he assumed it was night) and wasn’t paying attention to the mischievous terrier in his lap. He glanced away for a moment, a second even, and quick as lightning Rascal snatched the T.V. remote from Sam’s hand, trotted down to the end of the bed, and settled himself between Sam’s immobile feet, treating the remote as a chew toy. 

“Rascal, give that back!” Sam demanded, but he couldn’t lean forward enough to grab the remote, and the dog steadfastly refused to listen. As he continued to gnaw on the plastic, the channels started changing, frustrating Sam even more so. “Rascal! Come on, man, please?” 

Rascal eyebrows perked up and he gave Sam his most innocent doe eyes, but continued to leave tooth marks on the remote as he continued to chew on it. The channels eventually stopped on a man and woman yelling at each other in loud Spanish, easily spoken at a hundred miles an hour. Sam groaned. 

“I’m not watching a telenovela,” he told the dog sternly. He looked at the red button, and decided to get it over quickly; he could feel his face burning red as he smacked the button, unsure what to expect. 

“You rang?” Gabriel asked cheerfully, appearing beside Sam’s bed, still in his doctor outfit. 

Sam couldn’t really look the Trickster in the eyes; instead, he motioned towards the dog. “I can’t get the remote back,” he said quickly. 

“Sam Winchester bested by a teething terrier,” Gabriel teased. He snapped his fingers and the remote in Rascal’s jaws became an oversized bone, and another remote (perfectly intact) appeared in his hands. He started to hand it Sam, but jerked it back from the hunter’s grasp, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

“Hey, this looks interesting! Ever seen it?” Gabriel asked, pointing towards the T.V. 

“Um, no. Dean’s the one that watches the soaps, remember? Besides, I can’t speak Spanish. Not enough to understand what’s they’re saying, anyways.”

“Oh, come on! You don’t need to know the language to get the story,” Gabriel said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

“Just give me the remote,” Sam said, trying to snatch the remote but Gabriel stepped back just enough to be out of the hunter’s long reach. Sam did not pout. He didn’t. 

Gabriel’s eyes watched the T.V., and he tilted his head in interest. “It’s a murder mystery,” Gabriel said conversationally. “Who killed the mother? The jealous daughter-in-law, the devoted son, or the ever-popular cheating husband? Why don’t we play a little game, Sam-a-lam? I provide basic background information, and we both try to figure out who did it.” 

“You can understand Spanish,” Sam said. Angels knew all languages instinctually. 

“I’ll turn it off,” Gabriel said. “Come on. I’m sure that big brain of yours can figure out this mystery before the first commercial break.”

Sam glanced at the T.V., and sighed. Mostly he just wanted the damn remote back, but a small part of him was glad Gabriel was back and they weren’t yelling at each other. _Besides, I’m going stir-crazy anyway. At least this will kill a couple hours in a fun way_ , he thought to himself. 

“What does the winner get?” Sam asked. Gabriel shrugged. 

“Whatever he wants.” 

Sam sighed one final time. “Alright, fine.”

“Great!” Gabriel immediately snapped and Sam’s bed became a little wider, allowing the angel to lounge next to the hunter. Rascal dragged his bone up the bed so he was snuggled between the two men. Sam could’ve sworn the dog and Trickster shared a wink of a job well done, but he wasn’t sure he hadn’t just imagined it. 

~*~

“It’s Ignacio,” Sam said. 

“No way! He’s just a red herring, it’s totally Sylvia,” Gabriel said around a mouthful of Raisinets. 

Sam might have been skeptical of Gabriel’s idea, but two hours in and both men’s eyes were glued to the screen. The beautiful woman on the screen shot a glare at an equally attractive man sitting across from her in the hospital. They started a feisty argument of yelling and hand waving that lasted for an impressive amount of time. 

“Need a translation?” Gabriel asked. 

Sam shook his head. “Let me guess. Just found out he was cheating on her?”

“With the boss’s daughter.”

“No Bueno,” Sam said with a sad shake of his head. 

“Indeed,” Gabriel said dryly. He popped chocolate-covered raisins from a box in his hand into his mouth with alarming speed. Rascal was asleep, had been for most of the movie. 

Sam held out his hand towards Gabriel, and shook it when Gabriel simply looked at him. “Give me some? Please?”

“Sam doesn’t eat junk food! Who are you?” the angel demanded with a laugh as he poured a few into the hunter’s hand. 

“It has raisins in it. It doesn’t count as junk food if there’s fruit in it,” Sam muttered, returning his eyes to the screen. He didn’t say anything when Gabriel shuffled just a little closer, enough to finally press his side to Sam’s. 

They’d been playing this game the entire movie. Starting off with a few inches of space between them, every once in a while Gabriel readjusted or Sam did, and they unconsciously kept moving closer and closer to each other without actually touching. 

Gabriel watched Sam out of the corner of his eye and as he decided to go for it, and was secretly thrilled to see the tall human simply relax at the touch. Even through layers of blankets and clothes still separating them, Gabriel swore he saw the corners of Sam’s lips turn up in a miniscule smile.

A few moments later and the culprit was revealed just before they could successfully murder another member of the wealthy family being killed one after another. 

“I don’t believe it!” Gabriel moaned. 

“Told you,” Sam said smugly. “It was Ignacio.”

“I knew that. I was testing you to see if you could figure it out,” Gabriel said quickly. 

“You always were a sore loser.”

The T.V. screen was muted as Gabriel and Sam looked at each other, realizing just how close they actually were now that they weren’t distracted. 

“So, Sam, you won,” the Archangel said. “Per our agreement, name your prize.” 

The light atmosphere in the room started to turn as Sam thought for several minutes, not saying anything. There were so many things he could ask for, wanted to ask for, but now wasn’t the right time for it. 

Gabriel fidgeted next to him, growing anxious the longer Sam was taking.

“Come on, Sam, sometime this _century_ would be--!”

“I want to start off with an apology,” Sam said quickly, shutting the angel up mid-sentence. “About Lucifer. I’m sorry I had to do that, to you.” 

Gabriel closed his mouth and looked away for a moment. “It was the only thing to do at the time, Sam. I know that. Him or us.”

“You said before that Lucifer wasn’t all bad. So…what was he like? Before the war and the Fall?”

Gabriel cast a sideways glance at the human tucked into the hospital bed, the human who was watching him with soft hazel eyes. “How about I show you?” he said instead, and pressed two fingers to Sam’s mind. 

The memories flashed through his mind but were so clear and detailed it was as if it were happening right in front of him. Since Sam never saw their angelic forms, Lucifer and Gabriel were represented by the human vessels he knew them as. The memories came as quickly as they went, but he watched each one with curious awe. 

~*~

_Michael might have his younger brothers the mechanics on how to fly, but it was Lucifer who taught Raphael and Gabriel how to enjoy flying.  
He taught them how to navigate hurricanes and dead air, how to bank and dive and glide. He taught them that flying at sunrise was the best way to warm stiff wings and flying on clear, moonlit nights were the best ways to calm frantic thoughts. He made flying fun with races and mock aerial battles that revealed Gabriel’s natural gift for speed and agility. It was because of Lucifer that Gabriel became God’s Messenger. _

~~~

_Lucifer flew over the surface of the ocean and was teaching Gabriel the names of the creatures that lived in the deepest, darkest crevices of the ocean floor and in the sunlight reefs._

_“See, Gabriel, those are--“_

_“Sea monkeys!”_

_“No, those are plankton. Look at that one, in the sea grass, that’s a--”_

_“Sea horse!”_

_Sigh. “Look, you can’t just name everything after a land creature. All creatures are their own beings, just like you and me. We’re different, so we have different names, and they should too. Understand?”_

_Gabriel nodded. “What’s that?”_

_“That’s a…” Lucifer trailed off, waiting for Gabriel to answer._

_“Starfish?”_

_“No, it’s a sea star.”_

_“That sounds stupid. Hey, I like that one, it looks like you! I’ll call it…Blobfish!”_

_That day ended up being the day Lucifer also taught him how to swim._

~~~

_When Gabriel successfully managed to steal and hide Michael’s angel blade, it was Lucifer who stood up to their eldest brother on Gabriel’s behalf._

_“He’s only playing, Michael, leave him be.”_

_It was also Lucifer who pulled the blade from its hiding place and instructed Gabriel on better spots to hide it in the future, a twinkle of mischief in the older angel’s eyes._

~~~

_Lucifer and Gabriel sat atop Mount Kilimanjaro and discussed the impact the hairless apes could and would have on the Earth._

_I think you’re overthinking this, Luci,” Gabriel said, watching the savanna._

_“Come with me, brother. Together, we’ll show Father that these…humans…are not worthy of our love. Not more than He Himself. Please, Gabriel, **stand with me**.” _

_“You haven’t even given them a chance, Lucifer. At least give them that,” Gabriel said nonchalantly, not seeing the anger in the older Archangel’s eyes. “Father’s Word is Law.”_

_“Father is **wrong** …” Lucifer muttered under his breath._

~~~

_“Consider all options and chose your plan of action carefully, brother,” Lucifer told Gabriel, ancient eyes the color of tundra ice, faraway and distant. Gabriel had never seen Lucifer’s eyes so cold before. “No matter what happens, always stay your course.”_

~~~

_Gabriel watching with tearful eyes and a guilt-ridden heart when Lucifer was cast into the Cage by Michael, screaming the entire way as his wings were burned from the Fall._

He sometimes **still** felt Lucifer’s cries twist his Grace as if burned, despite the millennia.

~*~

Sam’s eyes opened. “It’s so hard to believe that was the same guy.”

“Being locked in solitary confinement will do that to a person,” Gabriel said sadly. “Lucifer was considered the evil one, but I was the one who always stabbed him in the back,” Gabriel said, wiping at watery eyes. “He died thinking of me as a traitorous coward. The only brother I was truly close to, and he died thinking I wanted nothing more than to fuck him over one last time.”

“Lucifer wasn’t your brother anymore,” Sam said, laying a comforting hand on the Trickster’s arm. “He was angry and was going to do nothing but destroy everything to make a point. He was perfectly willing to kill you to do that!” 

“I pushed him to it!”

“You were protecting us.”

“I was protecting _you_.”

The hunter tilted his head. “What do you mean? I wasn’t around.”

“Sam, you were Lucifer’s vessel,” Gabriel said, slight exasperation in his voice. “And I just came along a slapped a bond on you without a care in the world. It was disrespectful, it was cruel, it was—“

“Wait, so that knock-down, drag-out fight had nothing to do with good vs. evil or standing up for your family, or even stopping Lucifer from raising the horseman Death. It was you two fighting over _me_?” Sam said, an incredulous look on his face.

Gabriel blinked. “When you put it that way, you make it sound so juvenile,” he grumped.

“Then…I’m really glad I showed up when I did. Because you were getting your ass kicked all over the place,” Sam tried to joke. 

The Archangel bit his lip, overcome at that moment with emotions his angelic nature made hard to reconcile. He understood hate, and fear, and loyalty. He even had a better notion of love than most angels. But he hated the gut-curling knot that formed in his stomach whenever he thought of the past few weeks. It might have sounded funny now, but he had come so close to losing Sam: to their fates, to their brothers, to his own stupidity. He had been so _afraid_ of losing the hunter. 

Not again.

Gabriel leaned in and grabbed Sam’s chin, forcing the hunter to look at him. “Lucifer was not going to touch a hair on your head, Sam. You’re _mine_ ,” he said with a sudden, possessive tone. 

He brought their lips together with a sudden jerk, and Sam tensed for a moment, surprised. When he didn’t respond to the kiss (he wasn’t even sure how to respond to it) Gabriel pulled away and tried not to look upset and failed miserably. 

“Gabriel, I—“

Gabriel’s eyes were fixed on him, cutting him off. “Sam. There’s something you need to do for me, alright?”

“…what?”

“When your legs get working again, you’re going to have to make a decision.” Gabriel stopped there, and Sam had to prod him further. 

“And that is…?”

“Whether you want to go for the gold and make this a bonafide bond we have, or try to find a way to dissolve it.” 

Sam’s eyes grew wide. “What? But, we already have one, don’t we?”

The angel rang his hands in a moment of vulnerability Sam hadn’t seen before. “A true bond, a Profound one, is based on mutual and explicit consent to the bond and all that entails. You know how twitchy us flyboys are about consent, Sam.” 

“Alright, I can get that, but dissolve it? Didn’t we just have this whole conversation about how that’s _impossible_?”

“Sam, you’re a Winchester. You do the _impossible_ every day,” Gabriel said with a smirk. The smirk lost its sarcastic meaning when Sam saw the sadness flash over his face. “If it exists, between you and everyone else, you could find it. And considering the mess I made, I completely understand if you wouldn’t even want to be in the same hemisphere as me.” 

Sam opened his mouth but Gabriel shook his head. “Just think about it, kiddo. You’ve still got some time.” 

The hunter had no choice but to nod, and the angel looked satisfied with that. Gabriel hopped up from the bed and made a swift retreat to the door; he had to give Sam time to think. 

“Go to sleep, Sasquatch,” Gabriel said. “I’ll check up on you tomorrow.” 

Sam was left with a reeling mind and an ache in his chest he didn’t want to admit to having. “Gabriel just put me through hell, yet here I am feeling sorry for him,” Sam muttered to himself, crossing his arms angrily. Yet, he kept glancing at the door, as if hoping he would come back any second.

Sam wasn’t looking forward to the next several hours alone with himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Gabriel was lounging in a comfy-looking recliner in the middle of the hospital break room. Doctors and nurses bustled around him but completely ignored him as he sat, watching a T.V. and eating popcorn. The kernels tasted like Styrofoam packing peanuts but he kept chewing, trying to distract himself from what Sam was thinking or feeling. 

Though he wasn’t sure when Sam’s legs would finally get the feeling back in them, Sam was going to need time to mull over such an important decision. Gabriel didn’t want to know what was going through the hunter’s mind. He was pretty sure what was going to happen, but he didn’t want to think about it until Sam made up his mind. 

“What are you doing?”

Gabriel looked around the back of the chair to see Castiel leaning against a counter, watching him intently. He glanced at the people walking around with mild curiosity, but they were just illusions, partially created so Gabriel had something else to focus on. 

“I should ask the same thing. I figured the first time you showed up was a fluke, but do you _seriously_ have nothing better to do than stalk me in my own illusion?” Gabriel said with a scowl. 

“No. There’s several things I can think of that would be of more import, or at the very least more interesting. I hear watching paint dry is soothing way to pass the time,” Castiel said dryly. He looked up at the ceiling. “Your pining is distracting.”

Gabriel artfully choked on a popcorn kernel. “Say _what_?”

Blue eyes blinked at him. “You managed to miss the most powerful archangel walk the earth once before.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up in mild shock. “So, what? You’re guarding me against Michael?...Are you _sure_ you’re the same guy who told me he’d give me up to his psychotic boy toy in a New York minute?”

Castiel didn’t look at him. “Dean’s anger was justified, don’t you think?” 

The older archangel actually managed to snicker at the fact that Castiel didn’t correct him. “Bros before hoes, Cas, come on!” 

“Whores aside, what are you doing now?” Castiel repeated. 

“Waiting, what does it look like?” Gabriel sighed. “I gave him a choice.”

“A choice?”

“Either make it official or figure out a way to break it.”

Castiel blinked. “You can’t break a bond,” he said, sounding confused. 

“And you’re an expert, right?” Gabriel said with snark. “Look, I’m not happy about it. I don’t deserve it after what I did, no matter how inadvertently I did it. I’m just glad I was able to fix most of the damage the bond wrought. I’m just…I know what Sam will do, and that’s…upsetting,” Gabriel admitted. 

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “You know what he’ll decide?”

“Pretty sure.”

“How?” Castiel asked simply. 

“How? How? Because it’s Sam Winchester, hello, infamous monster hunter? He doesn’t want this, Cas, he doesn’t want _me_.” Gabriel said, motioning vigorously towards himself. “I’m the thing he hunts. I’m the thing he _kills_!” 

“Ah, I see. Because _Sam Winchester_ doesn’t understand gray areas,” Castiel said with sarcasm. “After every evil, torturous thing you’ve done to him and Dean, he still forgave you. You’re the thing he _chose_ , Gabriel.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, but ended up shutting it silently, unsure how to respond to that. “I hurt him,” he said quietly, gently rubbing his left arm, trying to soothe the pain. “Sam won’t forgive that.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and stared at his brother for a long moment. He had been so angry, so fearful for Sam’s wellbeing, that he had attacked Gabriel outright. At the time he thought him nothing more than a coward, but now…well, no angel in their right mind would pass through holy fire unless something very important was on the other side. It was only Gabriel’s age and power that kept him from losing the arm instantly, or even dying outright. It would be forever scarred, but he refused to wince or flinch or worry over it. He only cared about Sam’s health. 

“Haven’t you learned not to assume anything when it comes to humans, Gabriel?”

“I don’t need a lecture from an angel _I_ taught how to fly!” Gabriel said in irritation. He ignored Castiel’s huff. “I need to go check on Sam, so go do whatever and make yourself useful.”

Castiel didn’t argue; he simply disappeared with a constipated scowl on his face. 

Gabriel took a breath and flapped his great wings once, appearing in Sam’s room instantly. 

Sam was on the bed and was running his hands over his face. He groaned loudly.

“Sam, you okay?” Gabriel asked in concern. Rascal barked once before he jumped off the bed and ran to his master, clawing at Gabriel’s leg. 

“Gabriel, if you don’t get me out of this room I’m going to regress right back to being crazy Sam,” the hunter said. “I didn’t like T.V. much to begin with, but I can’t handle this anymore. The mindless, scripted realty shows, the _obnoxiously_ loud infomercials selling the most _useless_ gadgets imaginable, I just….God, I _can’t_ anymore.”

Gabriel was laughing only because the hunter looked sincerely desperate during his rant. 

“Can I have a book or something? Or my laptop? Please, I need something to work on,” Sam almost pleaded. 

Gabriel kept grinning. “Sorry, kiddo, no can do.”

“But Gabriel--!”

“We’re doing something a little different,” the archangel said instead. A mischievous smile and a snap later found Sam dressed in a plaid robe and with giant bunny slippers on his feet. He was sitting in a wheelchair with Rascal plopped onto his lap and Gabriel behind him. 

Sam looked down at the slippers with vague concern. “Where are we--?”

“Shotgun shuts his cakehole,” Gabriel said with a grin, making the hunter smile at the memory. The angel pushed Sam’s chair easily out of the room and into a busy hospital hallway. People milled around in nurse’s uniforms and doctors coats, acting perfectly normal. No one so much as bat an eyelash at them, which was the giveaway that this was some trick of Gabriel’s. 

“A tour of an imaginary hospital isn’t what I had in mind,” Sam said. 

“Good things it’s not what we’re doing,” he heard behind him. The hospital hallway suddenly changed around them to a busy city sidewalk full of people in business suits and school uniforms. The people and the strange symbols on the signs around them made Sam’s jaw drop with vague understanding. 

“Are we…in _Japan_?” he asked in surprise. He wasn’t’ sure what was more surprising: the fact that Gabriel had teleported him across the world in the blink of an eye, or the fact that no one was reacting to the strange visage they created. 

“Yep. Hungry? I know a great place we should go,” the angel said conversationally. He pushed Sam’s chair through the crowd without touching a single person, a feat considering the sheer amount of people everywhere. It made Sam’s hunter instinct go crazy: they could be caught unawares from _anywhere_ , by _anyone_. 

“They’d be suicidal,” Gabriel said reassuringly. 

“Don’t read my mind,” Sam said automatically. 

“Didn’t have to. The fingernail marks in the armrests gave you away,” he said easily. Sam didn’t realize the crowds had put him on edge that much but…God, he’d never seen so many people like this!

Sam found himself constantly craning his neck to look at the colorful signs and storefronts. There were clothing stores, music stores—and everything seemed to have a cute little face on it. Pants, cupcakes, cats….sushi with little rosy cheeks? Sam was overcome with the colors and shapes and the _food_ —Sam’s mouth was watering by the delicious smells that assaulted him. By the way Rascal’s nose was twitching like crazy, the dog was thinking the same thing too.

“Wish Bobby was here. He could read all these signs,” Sam said with regret. He felt like he was trapped in an alien city, and was suddenly envious of Bobby’s knowledge. 

“Get him to teach you some basics,” Gabriel suggested. 

“Definitely,” Sam agreed. It was making him crazy that he didn’t have any idea what people were saying (at least with Spanish he could muddle his way through, and Latin was the same). 

“Ah! Here we are!” Gabriel said in triumph, and he steered the chair down a tiny side alley. Halfway down was a small sliding door, next to which was a statue of a fat cat waving a paw in the air. Gabriel pushed the door aside and led Sam into a tiny restaurant—only five tables were inside, and even then it was a tight squeeze. He suspected Gabriel (still in the doctor’s uniform) must have mojoed the place slightly so his chair sat at the perfect height at their table. 

A Japanese man, young by the looks of it, came out to them, and Gabriel had a quick chat with him in fluent Japanese. The man cast a quick look at Sam (who felt very exposed in the robe) but only grinned and nodded at him before disappearing into the back and yelling instructions in Japanese. 

“How in the hell did you explain this?” Sam said, gesturing to his robe and Gabriel’s lab coat. 

The angel chuckled. “I was visiting a friend of mine stuck in a hospital, and I decided to break him out for an afternoon of fresh air and good food.”

Well, it wasn’t really a lie. 

“It’s a favorite haunt of mine,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“This restaurant or Japan in general?” 

“Both. I like the Japanese; they come off very uptight to most other countries, but there’s this hidden cache of insanity just underneath that level of Zen and manners that appeals to me,” Gabriel said with a wink. 

“Like hentai?”

Gabriel’s eyes grew wide in surprise. 

“Uh, I’m not—it’s Dean’s thing, I swear.”

“You never cease to surprise me, Sam-san,” Gabriel said with a slight accent. The hunter was about to respond when Rascal barked in excitement. Their server returned, and he placed two giant bowls in front of them The bowls were full of steaming broth and noodles with a fried egg, green onions, and shrimp on top. 

Gabriel thanked him and Sam even managed to muster up an “Arigatoo,” to the surprise and delight of the man. 

“What’s this?” Sam asked. Gabriel broke apart his wooden chopsticks and easily flipped some noodles and egg onto a smaller plate the man had left behind. It spoke to Gabriel’s skill when he didn’t fling a single drop of broth onto their table or on Sam. He put the plate on the floor and Rascal dove for it as if he hadn’t eaten in months. 

“Ramen,” Gabriel said, breathing in the smell with a sigh. He slurped up several noodles loudly. 

Sam looked at his bowl and had to admit, it smelled amazing. “Like the stuff me and Dean would buy from the store?”

“Don’t refer to that swill as Ramen,” Gabriel said with a stern look. “This is the genuine article. Go ahead, dig in.”

Sam glanced at the little chopsticks, noticed the lack of a spoon or fork, and swallowed. “I have no idea how these work,” he admitted. 

“Like this, Sasquatch,” Gabriel said, and positioned the sticks in Sam’s hand just so. He ignored the feel of those warm hands on his own, he didn’t let himself get butterflies at the touch. Gabriel was talking, but Sam was only seeing those lips and thinking about their unexpected kiss. 

“Got it, Sam?” 

“Uh, yep. No problem.”

Well, Sam tried. He put forth a valiant effort: after one of the most harrowing battles between man and cutlery ever witnessed, the tiny sticks of bamboo managed to best the Winchester. Noodles were on the table and on his robe, and there was broth _everywhere_ Gabriel wasn’t even trying not to laugh at him, and Sam just grinned in defeat. 

Feeling sympathetic for the hunter so far outside of his element, the Trickster snapped him up a spoon and fork while cleaning up the mess. The food was actually worth the fight—Sam was smitten after the first warm and noodle-filled bite. 

“Looks like we’ll have to make a return trip,” Gabriel said with a grin as he watched the human down his soup with gusto. 

Sam nodded adamantly.

~*~

Gabriel pushed them past the busy streets and out into a residential area, allowing Sam to digest his food peacefully. Rascal was sitting in Sam’s lap and licking his paws in a strange cat-like manner; even the dog couldn’t let a single drop of broth be wasted. 

They turned down another sidewalk and they found themselves entering a small park surrounded by flowering pink trees and a white fence. There were winding paths around patches of green grass and small ponds full of water lilies and colorful koi just under the water’s surface. Gabriel stopped them at a bench and parked Sam’s chair next to it while he took a seat next to him. A fish broke the pond’s surface a few feet in front of them. 

“Dean would like this. He likes to fish,” Sam said simply. The peaceful nature of the park—despite being in the middle of a city—made him drop his guard slightly, made him relaxed. 

“Really? Doesn’t strike me as the type,” Gabriel replied. He had positioned himself so there were several inches of space between them. 

“If you move aside the shotguns rounds, there’s a pull-apart rod he likes to take out once in a while. We even ate a few fish he caught for dinner when we didn’t have any money. Though, I think it’s the peace that he likes, not so much the catching part. That was before he went to…” Sam trailed off. “He hasn’t used it since coming back from Hell. I guess he figured when I took the Impala I threw that out, but I’d never do that.” He looked at the angel. “I always knew he’d come back. Even from Hell I knew he’d come back.”

“You Winchesters are human-boomerangs,” Gabriel agreed. “Some of the more resilient humans I’ve laid eyes on.”

“Um, thank you for today. This is…amazing,” Sam said sincerely. 

Gabriel smiled, but his honey eyes were still stormy. “No problem. But next time just _ask_ , knucklehead! No reason to threaten me with Saminator you again.”

The angel simply kept his honey eyes on the pond before them. The look of calm on Gabriel’s face was the same expression the angel had worn when trapped in the oil circle in the warehouse, and his own dreams. That impassive look had been adopted only when he was utterly trapped, utterly helpless, out of options and ideas.

Sam knew what the angel wanted, but he didn’t push, didn’t force. For once Gabriel didn’t try to manipulate the Winchester into some predetermined plan. Instead, he was willing to try the impossible (could a bond actually _be_ broken?) and break his own heart to make Sam happy—except for Dean and maybe Bobby, Sam couldn’t think of anyone else like that. 

Is that what Sam really wanted? To break the bond? Would that make him happy? It was a difficult and painful thing to contemplate when he realized just how good of a time he just had with the archangel. The back and forth was natural, had always been. Hell, Sam had been at Gabriel’s mercy completely the second the angel had touched him in his African Root induced nightmare, and yet he’d never worried once about his own safety. Even after everything that happened, he wasn’t nervous of Gabriel, even now. 

Instead, he wanted to each across the gap between them and--

He turned his head slightly to watch Rascal chase some of the falling flower petals. Sam glanced at the angel wringing his hands nervously. _Why does he look nervous? Oh, oh----_  
He hoped Gabriel didn’t see the blush that crept across his face upon realizing they were (technically speaking) on a date. _Sneaky bastard!_

Well, if that’s how he wanted to play it, two could play at that game.

Sam took one last look at Gabriel before suddenly looking down, surprise on his face. “Hey. Hey! I think my toes moved!” Sam said with excitement, pointing to his foot. 

“Glad to hear it!” Gabriel said honestly. He got down in front of the hunter’s chair and pulled off the fuzzy slipper so he could see for himself. After almost a minute of nothing happening, he looked up in confusion. “Can you do it again--?”

Sam leaned in and attacked the angel’s soft, slightly sweet lips. To say Gabriel was surprised was an understatement. But, unlike earlier, he wasted no time in reciprocating the kiss. He put his hand around Sam’s neck and held onto him tightly, both melted slightly when their lips touched after being apart so long. The vague bond between them had been slowly withering away due to the separation and illness. Now, as they went from tender to desperate, it grew stronger, deeper; a dry riverbed suddenly overflowing with rainwater.

When they broke apart, both flustered but grinning with swollen lips, Sam pulled the archangel into a tight hug, surprisingly strong for a man who almost died and had been trapped in a makeshift hospital for a few days on top of that. Gabriel had to make sure he didn’t actually break anything when returning the hug. 

“I forgive you, Gabriel,” was all Sam had to say into his ear as he tightened his hold, and the Archangel felt his eyes grow watery (not that he would ever admit it). 

“But…what I did--”

“Was mostly misunderstanding combined with my sadistic imagination. Now, I’m not saying you didn’t screw up, because you did. You’re an idiot. An asshole, but one with a heart of gold,” Sam told Gabriel when they broke apart. He stared at Gabriel with an intensity that almost made the angel look away, but he couldn’t. “What I said at Carthage was true, Gabriel. And I bet what you said was just as true. Hell, you went up against your own brother for me!”

Sam words were calm, but his emotions were ricocheting all over the place so much that Gabriel would’ve felt sick if possible. There was fear, there was nervousness, but there was something warm and inviting that Gabriel could also feel though the vague bond between them. It was comforting and burning, bright and sharp. It was fire, it was life. 

Even only being able to feel a small part of it, he knew what it was. 

Love. 

“Sam,” Gabriel said under a little sigh. He put a hand over Sam’s larger one and patted it. “This is not a decision to make lightly. This is a one-and-done deal. No time loops, no re-dos, no extra lives. You and me, kiddo, through it all until one of us dies bloody.”

“Well, considering how my life is, that probably won’t be too long.” 

Gabriel arched his eyebrows at the hunter, but Sam shrugged. It was true; he did die a lot for a normal human. “You’re literally using ‘carpe diem’ as reasoning for this?”

“I generally jump first,” Sam said with a grin. 

Gabriel knew he was never going to let the Winchester get away from him again, but he had to make one last point, one last stand. “If we complete this bond, you’ll never be normal again.”

“You mean I’m normal now?”

“You’ll always have these powers, kiddo. As long as we’re together, you’ll always have Grace humming under your skin, ready for you to use. It’ll just be part of who you are, until you die.” 

Sam laughed. “Better deal than demon blood.”

There was no way Sam was forgiving him this quickly, Gabriel thought to himself. After all the craziness, the physical torment he had put Sam through, and the hunter still wanted to be with him?

“Why aren’t you afraid of this? Of me?” Gabriel asked. 

“I’m fucking petrified, Gabriel,” Sam said easily, sitting up in the chair and wringing his hands nervously. “This could completely backfire in my face, just like everything else in my life. Shit, just a few days ago I thought you were trying to sell my ass to the Devil.”

“Yeah, and I thought I had a screwy imagination.” 

Sam huffed. “The world is suddenly looking up with Lucifer gone and the Apocalypse cancelled. I think I deserve a reward for my crappy life, don’t you?”

“I’m your reward? Wow, you have some terribly low standards,” Gabriel said cheekily. 

The hunter and archangel stared at each other for a long minute. 

“Sam, how can you trust me not to screw this up?”

He shrugged. “Well…I have faith in you, Gabe.”

Gabriel refused to acknowledge the smile that spread ear-to-ear to hear that stupid nickname again. Someone believed in him, had faith in him--an Archangel turned Pagan Trickster—to do the right thing? Miracles _do_ happen. 

On occasion.

Sam suddenly hissed in surprise and pain as a powerful tingling sensation raced up and down his legs. It was similar to the pain that follows circulation returning to a numb limb. Both man and angel looked at his feet and watched in awe as he moved his foot in a circle. 

“They actually move now!” Sam said with a laugh.

The Archangel scowled. “You _tricked_ me? Oh, there’s no way you’re ever leaving my side again, Winchester.” 

One snap later and they were back in the hospital room, sans robe and floppy-eared slippers. Sam didn’t talk; he gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed and gently put them on the floor. The cool concrete tile made him hiss, and though it took him a minute to get to his feet without wobbling or toppling over, he managed to get on his feet by himself. He took several baby steps around the room, his hand on the wall to guide and support himself. 

“Thank God I’ve got my legs back,” Sam said, throwing a grin at the angel lounging in the bed. 

“I should trap you in hospitals more often. The get-up provides a great view of that piece of art you call an ass,” Gabriel said with a leer in his eyes. 

“You’re an ass.”

“And a fine one at that,” Gabriel said with a chuckle. Once Sam made a successful circuit of the room, he made his way back to his bed and collapsed onto it, next to the angel.

Sam took a breath to steel himself and grabbed Gabriel’s hand tightly. “So, how do we…make this bond official?” 

Gabriel simply wiggled his eyebrows in the most salacious way possible. He leaned in towards Sam, but the hunter held up his hands to block the angel. Gabriel pouted. 

“Before anything else happens, we need to head back to Bobby’s and we’re going to alleviate everyone’s fears that I’m about to go psychotic on them. Although…Michael is still a problem…”

“Michael’s outnumbered now that Cas is an Archangel.”

“That still makes it two-and-two if Raphael takes his side,” Sam worried. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but we’ve got the Winchesters, the Harvelles, _and_ Bobby Singer on our side,” he counted on his fingers. “There’s no contest!” he said with a wink.


	10. Chapter 10

“Hello, mortals!” Gabriel announced cheerfully without a care in the world. Dean, Bobby, Jo and Ellen all jumped and let out various swear-words; the men ducked their heads in shock with the ladies’ colorful utterances. 

They jumped up (except for Bobby) ready for a fight, but were instead greeted with a smirking pagan god and a fully healed Winchester. Sam was dressed in the same clothes as when he had left, but they looked laundered, and he looked normal. No red eyes or stringy hair or dark circles under his eyes. Instead, he was actually looking relieved and healthy.

“Sam!” Dean said, leaping forward and dragging his younger brother into a tight hug. “Are you okay?” He demanded, giving Sam a thorough once over. 

“I’m fine, I swear!” was all Sam got out before Gabriel piped up. 

“Sam told me what happened. You’re looking good for a dead man,” Gabriel told the hunter cheerfully. 

Dean took a deep breath and turned his back on Sam and Gabriel. He needed a moment to calm himself before doing something stupid. Sam thought he heard something, like a click of the metal zippo lighter, and when Dean glanced back with narrowed eyes, Sam realized the shit had just hit the fan.

“Dean, don’t—“

The older hunter whipped around and launched himself at the archangel, a flaming blade in his right hand that he swung with every intention to stab the angel _fucker_ right in the heart. _“I’m going to kill you!”_ Luckily the archangel was fast; he dodged a potentially fatal slash by spinning out of the way, pulling Sam out of harm’s way as he moved. 

Without a moment lost, Castiel suddenly appeared between Dean and Gabriel before Dean could successfully stab the Archangel with what Sam realized was Ruby’s blade dipped in holy oil and set alight. _Holy shit Dean’s pissed!_

_“Get out the way Cas!”_ Dean snarled, ready to go for Gabriel again, but unwilling to take out Castiel. For the moment. 

“He’s not the enemy, Dean,” the angel told him forcefully, a hand on Dean’s shoulder, careful lest he break the collarbone with a twitch. 

Sam stepped forward slightly, making it obvious he was moving in front of Gabriel. 

“Dean, wait!” Sam yelled. “Listen to Cas--!”

“‘Not the enemy?’” Dean scoffed. “Whose side are you on?” he demanded of the blue-eyed angel as he shoved his hand from his shoulder. “And where the _flying hell_ have you been?!”

“I was guarding them from the angels,” Castiel said with a piercing stare. 

“And you couldn’t bother to _tell_ me that?!”

“My apologies. I stayed behind to make sure he successfully healed your brother,” Castiel said gruffly. “I also expected to return much faster than I did.” He shot Gabriel a look at that.

“After he left Sam at Carthage and somehow made him crazy, it was the least he could do,” Ellen pointed out. She, Jo, and Bobby were out of the way, each with a determined scowl on their face and each was holding a comically-oversized, bright yellow and orange super-soaker trained on the angels. Gabriel looked at them, then down at Bobby.

“Let me guess—holy oil?” he asked, and whistled when Bobby nodded. “I’m impressed at the amount of planning that went into this little murder plot. But what about your precious books, Singer?”

“Moved the important ones to the Panic Room,” Bobby said gruffly. Sure enough, Gabriel looked around to see the study was barer than he remembered last time. The last time he’d been to the hunter’s house, he and Sam were blissfully ignorant of their bond, Lucifer was alive, Michael thought him dead, and Castiel was on his last angelic legs. Oh, how quickly things could change.

“Let’s not forget the fact that Michael almost killed us and you didn’t even bother to show up and help!” Jo added. 

Gabriel looked hurt. “Et tu, Jo? I guess miraculous healings don’t earn you any sort of brownie points nowadays, huh?” 

Jo glanced away at that—the angel could see she was conflicted, but Sam was like a brother to her, and she would stand by him. Loyal family indeed.

“Look, I’ll admit that some bad decisions were made on my part,” Gabriel admitted. “But, if I was trying to hurt Sam, why would I take him to a hospital?” Gabriel shot back. 

“Your homemade set doesn’t count!” Dean snapped, stymied because he didn’t want to hit Cas with the knife, and _was Sam seriously protecting the asshole?!_

“Sam, what happened?” Ellen asked sternly, seeing Sam’s defensive stance.

Sam glanced at Gabriel, suddenly unsure what to say. It was such a long, convoluted story, and he was slightly embarrassed about how to explain it. Dean already wanted to kill Gabriel (though Castiel was blocking him, forcing him to standing there as the flames finally extinguished themselves); what in the world would Dean do if he found they were in the equivalent of an angelic _engagement?_

“Look, it was a big misunderstanding, but long story short, Sam was being poisoned by Grace,” Gabriel piped up. 

“Poisoned by Grace?” Bobby asked, voice gruff in suspicion. “Whose?”

Gabriel didn’t even pause. “Lucifer’s.”

Both Castiel and Sam looked at him, but he looked so calm about the lie they didn’t contradict him. Mostly because they didn’t know what he was planning. 

“Lucifer’s dead,” Dean said, looking with concern at Sam. “You said you killed him?”

“Oh, Sam did. Took my blade and stabbed him with it,” Gabriel said easily. “But he didn’t move fast enough, and some of Lucifer’s dying Grace attached itself to Sam. The vendetta against me, the illness…the Grace was dying and it was going to take Sam with it. I managed to purge it from Sam’s systems.”

“That can happen?” Dean asked, looking at Castiel.

Castiel shrugged. “I suppose anything is possible,” Castiel said, cleverly not answering and thus not lying. “Since Sam was his vessel, he could house the Grace. We’ll never know for sure.”

“So…that’s it? You’re sure?” Dean asked, scowling in suspicion. 

“Dean, I’m fine. Back to myself,” Sam said sincerely. 

Dean cracked a slight grin. “Let me get this straight. You basically caught an angelic _flu_? Wow, you’re a pansy bitch,” Dean said.

“Thanks, jerk,” Sam said, rolling his eyes, catching onto Gabriel’s plan. He didn’t particularly agree with lying to Dean, but if it calmed his older brother down faster, he’d give it a shot. It would be easier to blame the Devil and let it all be said and done than try and explain the debacle of Gabriel’s assholish nature almost killing Sam. “Still plan on stabbing Gabriel?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t thought about doing the same thing a few says earlier. 

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands and chuckled awkwardly, running the free hand through his hair. “Shit, my bad. But, uh, can you blame me?” he asked with a shaky grin as he slid the knife into his belt. Gabriel let out a sigh of relief with the blade gone.

“Considering how primitive mortal brains are, nope,” Gabriel said. 

“Where the hell were you, then?” Bobby asked. “Sam was this close to needing a padded cell.”

Gabriel’s eyes cut to the ground in a moment of remorse. “Losing a brother is difficult at the best of times. Even for angels it’s a trying thing. But, hey, that’s what alcohol is for,” he said quickly. He saw the look pass between everyone, including the look of understanding that flashed through Dean’s eyes. He’d lost Sam before—he knew that pain. 

Gabriel didn’t want to think about that anymore. This was supposed to be a good night. Before anyone could murmur any sort of condolences, he eyed the half empty bottles of whiskey, bourbon, and moonshine the hunters had been drinking to pass the long days worrying over Michael and Sam. “Your alcohol collection leaves much to be desired, Singer.”

“I’m sorry I’m all out of Ambrosia, princess,” Bobby muttered. He and the women lowered their weapons when it seemed no blood was going to be spilt. 

“Wrong set of Gods,” Gabriel said with a wink. “The Greeks wouldn’t know a good drink if it kicked them in the liver. The Norse, on the other hand.... how would you feel about Asgardian Mead? Stuff of legends, literally,” Gabriel said, snapping up a heavy wooden keg and plopping it down on Bobby’s cleared desk.

He whipped out a beer mug and filled it to the top with honey-gold liquid. Sam, who hadn’t said much, realized that the mead was the same color as Gabriel’s eyes. _And just as intoxicating_ , Sam thought to himself. 

The humans all looked at each other in confusion and caution. “What are you doing?” Dean demanded. 

“Congratulations! You morons actually managed to stave off the end of the world by the skin of your teeth,” Gabriel said, raising the glass in a toast. “And so, since you’re alive and well, I suggest you celebrate accordingly.”

Suddenly there were neon paper streamers of orange, pink, and green stretching between the bare bookcases, clashing with the dark interior of the room. A huge bundle of shining, metallic balloons tied themselves to the back of Bobby’s wheelchair. Various balloons proclaiming “You saved the world!” and “Congrats, You’re not DEAD!” were bumping against the ceiling as they floated around. 

“You want to throw a party?” Jo asked incredulously, an unsure smile on her face. 

“That’s generally what happens when you save the world,” Gabriel said a grin. “Although not everyone’s lucky enough to have their affair catered by a bonafide pagan.” 

“What about Michael?” Bobby asked. “This isn’t exactly subtle.” He gave the balloons tied to his chair a dubious look, as if afraid they would either explode or lift him into the air. 

“I don’t do subtle, I do fun. Michael is extremely allergic to anything remotely resembling a good time,” Gabriel said. When everyone gave him a disbelieving stare, the Archangel huffed and set the mug on the desk in annoyance. He walked over to a doorway, did a little spin until he was facing them again, and placed his hand against the wooden frame. Immediately the house started shaking; while the humans stumbled as the house rocked around them, Castiel seemed completely unaffected. 

Gabriel lifted his hand a moment later, and swiped his hands together. “My work is done.”

“What the hell is it with you angels trying to dismantle my house?!” Bobby asked. “What the hell did you do?”

Castiel looked around the house, a slight look of surprise on his face. “Interesting,” he said. 

“Know the sigils Castiel so lovingly hand-carved into your ribs? Well, I did the same thing, just on a larger scale,” Gabriel said. 

“You carved those sigils into the house?” Dean asked. 

“The framework, yep,” the Trickster said.

When Ellen and Jo looked terribly confused, Sam piped up. “Before he lost his mojo, after Lucifer rose, Cas carved an Enochian spell onto our ribs to hide us from all the angels.”

“Kinky,” Jo said, raising an eyebrow at Castiel.

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s not as much of a picnic as it might sound.”

“So, my house is now invisible to angels?” Bobby asked. “Well, it’ll be nice to be able to sleep in my bed again,” he said positively. He missed his bed.

“No angelic party-crashers tonight,” Gabriel promised. He snapped his fingers again and loud Latin dancing music came from a stereo that appeared on the kitchen counter.

“What’s with the music?” Ellen yelled over the noise.

“Bobby said he liked salsa. So, go ahead and salsa away you adorable mortals. Though I suggest you try not to break anything thing time around, Singer,” Gabriel said with a wink. 

Bobby’s eyes grew wide; he looked down at his legs, and carefully stood up out of the chair. Sam, Dean, Ellen, and Jo all shared surprised looks of delight that became bear hugs all around. Bobby actually spun Ellen around and dipped her backwards in his enthusiasm. 

That was the moment that the hunters gave into the party atmosphere. Bobby was healed and the house was not only invisible to angels, it was being watched over by two Archangels—it was probably the safest place on Earth, and the hunters realized it at the same time. With that realization, it was easy to crack a smile and break loose after all the fear and worry they’d been dealing with for days. It helped that Sam seemed to be thoroughly healed up and back to his own self—he never stopped with that ear-splitting smile. 

Once everyone got some mead in their system, the smiles never stopped and the worry never started. 

“Surprised you didn’t think of that, Cassie,” Gabriel said smugly into his younger brother’s ear as they stood off to the side and watched the humans with interest as they toasted and congratulated each other. 

Castiel huffed. “I spent most of my time chasing you, remember?”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Besides, I figured you could use something to get into their good graces,” Castiel said with a cunning smirk. 

Gabriel chuckled. “Sure you’re not the Trickster in the family?”

Castiel was about to say something when his brother snapped up a huge sombrero on Heaven’s newest Archangel. Castiel pulled it off his head and looked at it curiously. He actually chuckled when Dean grabbed it and flopped it on his own head. “Come on, Cas!” he said as he dragged the angel back towards Jo and started doing the Macarena with Jo in celebratory abandon.

“Dean, what are--?”

“It’s called the Macarena, Cas. If I can’t get you laid I can at least get you to learn how to do the easiest dance in all of history. If kindergartners can do it, so can you!”

Jo almost broke a rib, she was laughing so hard at Castiel’s failed attempt to dance and Dean’s failed attempt to teach it. Neither of them had rhythm, and Castiel kept watching Dean’s movements with narrowed eyes instead of learning the parts of the dance Dean was trying to teach. Eventually she was roped into helping teach an Angel of the Lord how to do the Macarena. He actually started to get it when she took over the reins. 

Sam snuck up to Gabriel and managed, in the middle of a party, to look slightly worried. Sam looked down at the mug of liquid in Gabriel’s hand and stared at it intently for a moment before looking at the angel himself. 

Gabriel chuckled. “I learned my lesson, Sasquatch. As much of a bummer as it is, it’s just apple juice. Want some?” 

Sam leaned down, but he stole a kiss instead of a sip. Even though he was nervous and scared about what might happen between him and Gabriel, he was exultant. The Apocalypse was officially over and everyone was alive—there was hardly more he could wish for.

At some point Castiel decided to give the mead a try, once he got a comfortable buzz going he surprised everyone with his dirty Enochian jokes told with a slurring tongue and, (when Gabriel snapped up a karaoke machine and stage in the middle of Bobby’s study) his affinity of karaoke. Though he couldn’t do more than stoically warble most of the songs, Dean always clapped the loudest whenever Cas finished one. 

The party lasted until dawn, Castiel and Gabriel using their celestial abilities to keep the humans’ puny livers from exploding at the mead’s potency. Gabriel acted as referee as the humans started going pint for pint with Castiel. “I think I’m starting to feel something,” the angel slurred after Jo fell out of her chair laughing at nothing after each drank a pint in less than a minute.

Gabriel masqueraded as a Mariachi and did a terrible Elvis impression. That was _before_ he broke out the Chiquita banana lady outfit and decided to sing catchy pop songs. Dean was drunk enough to be caught singing along to the song—

“You’re hot, then you’re cold! You’re yes then you’re no! You’re in then you’re out! You’re up then you’re—“

“Dean, seriously?” Sam asked, laughing loudly. _“Katy Perry?”_

“What? It’s a catchy song,” Dean tried to defend himself, but the goofy grin on his face negated the excuse. It was impossible to tell whether the flush on his cheeks was from embarrassment or a testament to how hammered he was. 

“Dean sings well,” Castiel slurred, thinking Sam was discrediting Dean’s singing ability and feeling the need to defend Dean’s honor. 

“Yeah, you’re just---you bitch a lot,” Dean shot back, waving his hands vaguely. “Thanks for the back-up, Cas. You’re _awesome_ ….” Dean narrowed his eyes at the angel. “You have pretty eyes, didja know that?” 

Cas simply smiled. “My pleasure, Dean.” 

Dean snickered like a fifth-grader at that. “Pleasure,” he repeated in a gruff voice and fell over in peals of laughter.

“God, just get a room already,” Jo interjected with a tired roll of the eyes. 

“I don’t need to sleep,” Castiel said in confusion. 

“Ya’ll are idjits, you know that, right?” Bobby said from his desk. How he and Ellen were managing to stay in their chairs while everyone else was sitting on the floor of the study was anyone’s guess. 

“Yeah, but their our idjits,” Ellen said in a teasing tone. She patted his hand affectionately. 

Gabriel was on the edge of the desk, kicking his feet and knocking back a shot of Bobby’s strongest rotgut. It didn’t have nearly the same kick mead did, but he felt a little warmth in his belly that made him grin. 

“Also, sorry for trying to napalm ya earlier,” Bobby offered to the Trickster as he filled the Trickster’s glass again. 

Gabriel raised his glass in a little toast. “If I’m going to die, there are few ways I’d want to go. Killed by a toy-turned-flamethrower is a suitably ironic way to go.” 

“Glad to know your own death would’ve earned your approval,” Ellen said with a smile.

Seeing such straight-laced humans and his wet blanket of a brother rolling on the floor laughing at nothing felt extremely satisfying. Without the weight of the world on his, or anyone else’s shoulders, they acted like fools and enjoyed every second of it.

~*~

Sam woke up on the floor in the late afternoon, his flannel shirt balled-up pillow under his head. He was expecting his head to be pounding, his throat to be dry. Even with the angelic assist he was expecting one hell of a hangover but he felt fine, better than fine. 

Jo was passed out on the couch and Dean was curled up on Sam’s other side, snoring softly, his long-sleeved shirt pulled over his body as a blanket. Bobby and Ellen were nowhere to be seen. 

He looked up to see Gabriel hovering just over his chest, watching him intently with what Sam suspected was a bit of relief and fondness. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled brightly at his hunter. “Morning kiddo—“

Sam sat up and pulled Gabriel down into a tantalizingly slow kiss, all warmth, appreciation, and want. Gabriel smirked at the impressive tent Sam’s morning wood had created.

“Why don’t we head back to your place?” Sam whispered into Gabriel’s ear. 

Gabriel locked his eyes on Sam for a long moment. “Last chance to say no, Sam. I’ll even help look for a spell or something to dissolve the bond between us, no strings attached,” Gabriel whispered, not wanting to wake the others. 

Sam mulled over it for a moment. “Even if that were a possibility…I’d rather be yours,” Sam said honestly. “Call me a romantic sap but….”

“Feelings mutual, Sasquatch,” Gabriel said with a happy gleam in his eyes. 

Gentle rustling in the kitchen made them look to see Castiel standing in the kitchen. The newest Archangel fixed them a tilted head stare before letting loose with a smirk that lit up his face like a Christmas tree. 

_No wonder Dean stares so much_ , Sam thought to himself when he saw Castiel’s pleased look. 

“Did you tell him?” Sam asked Gabriel quietly. 

“He had a pretty good idea before I did,” Gabriel admitted. “He’ll keep the hounds at bay.”

Under Castiel’s smile, hunter and archangel disappeared, just as Dean and Jo began to stir.


	11. Chapter 11

It was night in Gabriel’s apartment, but they barely noticed. Appearing in Gabriel’s bedroom, they tried to quickly strip, but they kept distracting each other with touches, kisses, murmurs of affection. Each touch sent a fiery trill through the bond, making them wanting each other more and more. With a smirk Gabriel flicked his wrist in a saucy manner. Immediately there were lit candles on the bedside tables, their tiny flames flickering gently in the dark room, casting eerie shadows over the two men. 

“Mood lighting?” Sam asked with a chuckle. 

“If we’re doing this, we’re going it right. Besides, let me indulge in my hopeless romantic side.” Gabriel said with a smile. Another kiss; Sam wanted to heat things up, but Gabriel was staying calm, slow, steady. Sam had already managed to lose his shirt, shoes and socks—he was only in his jeans, but Gabriel broke away from Sam’s wandering hands before any of his own clothing had managed to be successfully discarded. Sam pouted when they broke apart, until he noticed the angel _flinch_ —infinitesimally so. 

“Gabe, everything okay?” Sam asked with concern. 

Honey eyes flashed at his, and he almost held his breath at the sight of those eyes in the firelight. If Sam didn’t already know Gabriel wasn’t human, that sight would’ve been a dead giveaway--nothing that amazing could’ve been from Earth. 

Gabriel sighed, obviously stymied about what he wanted to do next. He rubbed his left arm in a ginger manner, and Sam recognized someone in pain. “What happened?” he asked. 

The angel didn’t look at him. “Do you remember anything from your dream, Sam? When you trapped me in your head?”

Sam blinked, trying hard but only getting vague images, fuzzy emotions. He remembered being furious, he remembered the painful migraines but only just barely. The conversation itself was fuzzy, but he remembered the forlorn look of helplessness on an Archangel’s face— _that_ he remembered very clearly, probably would for the rest of his days. 

“Barely…why, did I hurt you?” Sam asked, suddenly uneasy. 

“You were in so much pain, Sam. I couldn’t stand it. I might have…um…done something considered…reckless.” 

Sam gently grabbed the other’s chin and made Gabriel look at him. “Are you hurt?”

Gabriel sighed in a put upon way. This wasn’t how he was imaging the night going, but, well, perhaps this was for the best. He just hoped Sam didn’t…freak.

The angel backed away and slowly pulled off his outer jacket. He moved slowly (a little gingerly, he’d admit) and made a little show of unbuttoning his long-sleeve shirt, though Sam looked more concerned than turned on. Finally, he was able to drop the shirt to the floor, and Sam’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Jesus, Gabe!”

“Actually, this was all me in my brilliance,” Gabriel said with a smirk, though there was no mirth in it. It was obvious Sam wanted to touch, but it looked downright painful. Gabriel held his left arm so Sam could look get a better look at it. Up to the elbow the skin was split and scaly—there looked to be little cracks in the skin, and there looked to be almost light coming from underneath the skin. 

“What--?”

“You don’t remember? You used African Dream Root to take actual holy oil into your dream and trapped me in a flaming circle of death,” Gabriel said cheekily. Sam just looked horrified. 

The hunter sagged against the edge of the bed, looking almost sick to his stomach. “God, I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry, I— I can’t believe I—“

“Sam, Sam! Calm down!” Gabriel said quickly, hoping to keep the hunter from panicking. 

“How can you even want to be _near_ me, I almost burned your arm off!” 

“Sam, you didn’t _make_ me shove my arm burning a ring of holy fire. I did that all on my own. I had to help you—“ 

_“You shoved your arm through holy fire?!”_

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Like I said, I had to get you to snap out of your downward spiral of crazy.” 

“How the hell did I _not_ notice this?!” Sam demanded of himself. His hand moved towards Gabriel’s arm on its own accord, but he stopped himself. 

The Archangel snapped his fingers and the arm was perfectly fine. No burns, no scars; it looked completely normal. “See? It’s magic. Literally.” 

“You’ve been hiding that?!” 

“You tend to take things personally, snickerdoodle,” Gabriel said. “Like I said, this was all my genius idea.” 

A moment after Sam steeled himself, he stroked the “healed” arm in a gentle caress, but the angel could feel hesitancy in the touch. The skin felt rough and hot under his fingertips. “Does it hurt a lot?” Sam asked quietly. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes, ignoring the tingles that followed wherever Sam’s fingertips went. Sam’s hesitation ruffled Gabriel’s pride. “On Odin’s beard, cut it out! A little burn is nothing to me. Archangel, remember? _Really_ don’t need you treating me like a porcelain china doll.” 

Sam gathered him into a soothing hug, careful not to crush the arm in question. “I’m so fucking sorry, Gabe. We’ll figure something out. There’s got to be something I can do to help fix it,” he murmured in Gabriel’s bare shoulder, his long hair tickling the angel’s neck. 

He felt Gabriel chuckle against his bare chest. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m pretty sure it’s permanent.” 

Sam pulled away and locked his hazel eyes on Gabriel. “If it’s going to be part of you, please don’t hide it, at least around me,” he ordered. Gabriel shivered at that tone. “And don’t you dare tell me not to try and fix it. I did this; I’ll undo it.” 

Sam dragged him into a deep and passionate kiss that made Gabriel forget why they were still talking and why they hadn’t started screwing each other’s brains out yet. Their chests felt hot against each other; Gabriel was distracted enough to drop the illusion. The human pulled away (damn the need to breath) and placed a hand gently on the arm in question, but there was no hesitancy this time. Sam didn’t act squeamish or disgusted; he didn’t seem bothered at all. 

“Until I figure out a way to fix it, I can at least make you forget about it,” the hunter promised in his ear. Gabriel’s dick was going to burst through the denim in his jeans if Sam kept that up. 

Thank God Sam was adaptable, thank God Sam didn’t seem to think a burned and scaly arm was anything worth noting. Gabriel wasn’t one for feeling self-conscious, but he’d been getting antsy about trying to do any sort of bedroom activity with his arm hurt. It still hurt a little, but he had decided that ache of pain was going to be his penance for hurting Sam. 

Gabriel glanced out the window, Sam’s gaze following his until he was lost in the millions of pinpricks of light laid out before them, the mysterious cityscape laying a gentle glow over their room along with the candlelight. “Figure out where we are, yet?” 

“I’ve been a bit distracted,” Sam said, feeling nervous butterflies in his stomach. Something tickled Sam’s abs and he looked to see Gabriel with a rose in his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows in what he considered to be a seductive gesture. 

“God, you weren’t kidding about that hopeless part,” Sam teased. 

With a smirk he took the flower from his mouth by the stem and ran its soft petals over Sam’s skin, making him squirm. The flower trailed up his stomach until it danced over his nipple, teasing it to standing and making Sam let out a little groan. 

Gabriel grinned and hooked a finger under his waistband. “Off. Now,” he commanded, and the human scrambled to follow his orders. With Sam (both Sams) standing tall and proud in the firelight, the angel looked positively devious, especially as he ran the rose over Sam’s hand, up his toned arm, down his chest and stomach, lower and lower— 

Sam jerked backwards with a giggle. “Ticklish,” he muttered. 

“Now _that_ was a silly thing to admit to a Trickster,” Gabriel said. He motioned for Sam to climb into the bed by patting his ass with the flower and quickly discarded it along with the rest of his own clothing. 

“On your back,” he commanded, and Sam did as he was told, even going so far as to put his hands behind his head, giving Gabriel nothing but miles of tanned skin and lean muscles to gaze appreciatively over. _Move over Apollo and Adonis, Sam is the new standard_ , he thought. He looked down at his arm one more time and swallowed before he climbed onto Sam and straddled his hips, fixing a warm gaze on the hunter that could’ve melted even Lucifer’s icy heart. 

“So, what now? We just have sex again and it’ll be all said and done?” Sam asked. It was impossible to quell the nerves in his stomach, but there was also a sense of…rightness…about the idea. The idea of being with Gabriel for the rest of his life wasn’t so scary since he’d had a time to process it. He was always the brother who jumped first, after all. 

Gabriel leaned forward and pressed gentle kisses to Sam’s forehead, trailing down until he got to his cheeks, finally his lips. Wandering fingers found Sam’s nipples and got them to pebble hardness with hard pinches and easy caresses. He stopped when Sam let out a tiny sigh, and splayed a hand over Sam’s heart. 

“Have a little more respect, Sam. There is some ceremony, after all. Repeat after me,” Gabriel said. Sam nodded when the serious tone--coming from the _Trickster_ \--stilled the playfulness he was feeling. 

Enochian words flowed from Gabriel’s mouth like music—even a human vessel shouldn’t have been able to make those sorts of sounds, and Sam’s heart fluttered when he realized that it wasn’t Gabriel in a vessel talking to him, that was Gabriel _itself_. The Archangel, speaking to Sam words that it had never spoken to anyone, in all its time of existence. That was a heady thing to try and wrap one’s mind around. 

Sam tried, but he was pretty sure he had stuttered and got terribly tongue-tied in the middle of it, but Gabriel only grinned brighter and brighter until Sam was finished and he basically attacked the human’s lips with a heated kiss. 

“What did I say?” Sam asked when Gabe let him come up from air. 

“Without all the extra flowery stuff, it boiled down to a promise,” Gabriel explained. “My heart, your soul, my Grace, your love—we are One.” 

Sam felt the butterflies through the bond, but wasn’t entirely sure who they were from. “So, that’s our ‘I do’?” 

“Yep,” Gabriel said with a grin. “Now the fun part, Sam-a-lam, the consummation of our most holy union.” 

Sam laughed, but his mirth was cut short by Gabriel attacking his neck, leaving dark bites on his shoulder and grinding down on Sam’s half-interested dick until it was _completely_ with the program. 

Gabriel hips rolled continuously, bringing them together with a slow rhythm that Sam partially wanted to fight against. He wanted the fast and the hard, but it was obvious Gabriel wasn’t going that route tonight. He was in charge, and he was going to make Sam crazy by drowning him in the slow, thoughtful movements, the whispered endearments, the low sighs. 

They weren’t just having sex. They were making love. 

Gabriel’s tongue flicked and rolled Sam’s nipples between his teeth as he continued the slow pace, dragging their dicks together with easy movements. 

“God, Gabe, you’re driving me crazy—ah, fuck…” 

Gabriel rolled off Sam without warning; the sudden absence of the dry friction that had been working him up made him whine slightly. 

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Gabriel said with a chuckle and a grin. “There’ll be plenty of time for that. Eternity’s a long time, remember?” 

Those words sent a shiver straight from his heart to his cock, making it twitch in anticipation. Sam was about to ask Gabriel to touch him anywhere, to do _something_ , because the sudden abandoned feeling was making him needier than he wanted to admit to aloud. 

A lube-slick hand wrapped around Sam, and he gasped when Gabriel began jerking him off in steady movements, with just the right amount of pull and tightness to make him grab at the sheets and arch his back. It was an intoxicating idea, knowing Sam would be in his bed for the rest of his days and his for the rest of time itself. 

Sam reached for Gabe’s standing cock, noticing the drop of pre-come leaking from the slit and licked his lips. Gabriel shifted his hips backwards, away from Sam, winking at the confused hunter. 

“Not yet, sugar plum. The best is yet to come.” 

“No puns in the bedroom, please,” Sam breathed out with a shaky laugh. 

“But that’s the best place for them!” Gabriel laughed. 

“You’re…an idiot,” Sam breathed out. Though the hand around his dick felt great, amazing even, it wasn’t what he wanted. He pushed his hips down and spread his legs, an open invitation for Gabriel to fuck him and sooner rather than later. 

The archangel dragged Sam into a dirty kiss that was all heat but continued to pull on his dick with slow, easy movements. Just as Sam was about to complain, fingers prodded Sam’s entrance in a teasing way. Sam thought it was Gabriel’s other hand until he realized Gabriel’s free hand was cupped around the back of his head, keeping their mouth locked together in a heated kiss just as a slicked up, adventurous digit pushed past the ring of muscle. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” was all he could murmur—too many sensations were starting to make him dizzy with lust and want. Magic fingers worked him open with smooth and steady thrusts as Gabriel’s hand worked on Sam, making him gasp with hard jerks and easy pumps. The hunter squirmed and thrust his hips down onto the digits working him open. Gabriel lay back with a Cheshire cat grin on his face as he took in the sight. 

“You’re gorgeous, Sam,” he breathed as he leaned in and nibbled around the shell of Sam’s ear and licked down his neck. Soap, gun oil, salt, a taste that was all Sam. Gabriel’s dick twitched almost painfully when the hunter let out an actual mewl. “Mmm. Delicious too. Better than any candy that’s ever existed, and that’s saying something considering I’ve tried them all at least once.” 

“Ah—ah—ng, Gabe, please, I’m gonna---fuck, I want you,” Sam managed to say. For some reason, the slow easiness was more mind-blowing than the hip-breaking pounding he’d demanded before. 

“My pleasure.” Gabriel pulled away his hand, leaving Sam’s dick to stand by itself. His hand replaced the one he’d created and he shoved two fingers into Sam’s ass with little ceremony, drinking in the younger man’s surprised gasp like a dehydrated man drinks water. He couldn’t help the growl that came from him as Sam clamped down on his fingers with that tight heat. 

Gabriel climbed between Sam’s legs and continued to tease him open while he dragged their dicks against each other’s and whispered into Sam’s ear. 

“You’re mine, Sam,” Gabriel said once more. “All of this is _mine_.” He kissed Sam’s forehead, bit his lips, nipped his way down Sam’s collarbone and abs—his fingers and kisses were committing Sam’s body to memory. “No one will touch you like this. No one will make you moan like this, or _scream_ like this, except for me.” 

“Not just a one way street,” Sam said, thrusting his hips against Gabriel, knocking him off his rhythm slightly and making him groan at the touch. “You’re mine, angel.” He laid a land on Gabriel’s scarred arm, and the light showing through the cracks seemed to glow slightly brighter. “Now fuck me already, or are you too crippled?” 

Gabriel dragged them together for one last kiss, erasing the teasing smirk on Sam’s face. “Oh, by the end of tonight I won’t be the only one broken if you keep that lip up.” 

He removed his fingers, already missing the way Sam’s warmth had clamped around them, and slicked himself up with snapped-up lube. He pressed his cock against Sam’s wet and ready entrance but didn’t move forward. It took everything he had to keep from plowing right into the hunter’s ready ass (his cock throbbed at the idea of being inside Sam, claiming the human as his own). 

“This has never been done before, Sam,” Gabriel said. Hazel eyes, almost black with lust, looked up at him. It was getting harder to actually think with those eyes staring up at him, the love and comfort and need that were flickering across the bond making him unsteady. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.” 

“Gabe, I’m a Winchester. Everything we do has never been done before,” Sam pointed out. 

When Gabriel still looked a little unsure, Sam kissed him deeply. “Gabriel, I want this. I want you.” 

He wrapped his long legs around Gabriel’s waist, pulling him closer. “Read my mind if you have too,” Sam said. Well, an invitation like that was hard to ignore, and Gabriel did take a peek. 

_Images of them laughing, lounging on the ridiculous bed with its porn-red sheets, entangled in each other’s arms. Watching movies on the couch, making dinner but Sam managing to burn half of it. Sam diving in front of Lucifer to save Gabriel. The memory of Sam wanted nothing more than to kiss Gabriel even after almost losing himself to the angel’s unintentional influence._

Sam didn’t just want this, he _wanted_ this—the entire thing. The pain, the pleasure, the sadness, the uncertainty, the lust, the love, the everything. He wanted Gabriel’s snarkiness, he wanted his selfishness, his laughter, his smirk, his good intentions. His love. 

Gabriel knew he’d lost it to Sam a while ago, but to see the human’s thoughts, his utter love of everything good and bad about him (which, let’s be honest, Gabriel was no boy scout and neither was Sam), it made him want to send his Dad a fruit basket or something in thanks. 

The angel didn’t need any more cajoling after that—they both moaned when he slid his cock into Sam, the sting of the intrusion burning but with more pleasure than pain. The archangel set up a slower pace, and he whispered words into Sam’s ears with every thrust. Enochian again, but Sam could’ve sworn he was able to understand pieces here and there…. 

My love….my light holder…my only. 

“Dammit Sam, what is it about you?” Gabriel murmured in English, though it seemed he was asking himself. “Why do you make me crazy?” he asked into the human’s collarbone.  
He didn’t wait for an answer; he just kept snapping his hips faster, the sound of skin smacking skin (along with Sam’s whimpers and grunts) marking the faster pace. He changed his angle just so slightly and Sam arched his back up off the bed with a yelp of his name when Gabriel found his prostate. 

“Fucking hell, ah--!” 

“You’re never leaving my bed again, mortal,” Gabriel promised. The archangel used that to his advantage and made sure to hit every time, never giving Sam a chance to recover between jolts of pleasure. “Course, that might have to do with fact you won’t be able to walk.” 

“Oh God, fuck, Gabe…” Sam babbled. His hands were fisted in the sheets so hard they almost ripped under his strength. 

He was getting close, but his neglected cock was dark red and leaking, swearing pre-come over his and Gabriel’s bellies. God, he needed to be touched so badly he felt like he was going to burst. He reached for it but Gabriel grabbed his hands and jerked them up until they were over Sam’s head and locked their hands together. 

“You come on my cock or you don’t come at all,” Gabriel growled possessively, arching his body up so Sam couldn’t even use the friction of Gabriel’s stomach to ease the need in his dick. 

“Fuck, Gabe, I’m so close!” Laid out like he was, the only thing he could do was take Gabriel’s thrusts, which were hitting faster and deeper. “You’re going to…put me back in that hospital!” 

“Maybe I have a thing for seeing you in that gown again,” Gabriel managed to tease. 

“You talk too much,” Sam said, thrusting his hips and pulling the angel into another sloppy kiss, missing his mark slightly from the pounding he was taking. 

“God, Gabe, I need you to…” 

Sam’s eyes grew wide in utter surprise when he realized Gabriel’s wings had unfolded from his back. They took up the entirety of the room and opened over them, engulfing them in a sheer curtain of spider-silk lace. He still couldn’t completely see them—still like mirages, barely there images—but the trailing tingles of electricity that danced over his skin when a feather touched his arm or chest made his impending orgasm more mind-blowing. “Gabriel, _please_!” 

Gabriel moved down and leaned his forehead against Sam’s, the motion tender even as he sped up the tempo, bringing them both closer to the edge. 

“The chorus of Heaven’s got nothing on you, kid,” Gabriel whispered as Sam let out another colorful moan. “Sing for me, Sam,” he ordered, a little bit of angelic power radiating through the command. He let go of Sam’s hand and brushed aside sweat-soaked bangs so he could see Sam’s face when he came. 

Those simple words made Sam claw at the archangel’s shoulders and throw his head back into the pillow, screaming Gabriel’s name. White spurts of cum erupted from the hunter’s cock and coated their chests—Gabriel had no chance after witnessing that reaction, after feeling Sam’s ass clench around him almost painfully. 

“Close your eyes!” Gabriel ordered before he pressed a hand over Sam’s eyes and a hand to Sam’s hip, holding them flush together as his Grace exploded out of his vessel in a burst of blinding light. The windows behind them exploded outward, the light bulbs in the room imploded and shattered. 

Gabriel quivered for a few seconds as his orgasm was milked from him, almost to the point where he lost a few seconds of conscious thought. Once bone dry he rolled off of Sam’s limp form, but noticed something amiss even in his post-orgasmic haze. He watched the hunter for a moment, arching an eyebrow when he realized Sam hadn’t just blacked out from an awesome orgasm. 

Sam wasn’t _breathing_. 

Exhaustion forgotten, Gabriel clambered onto Sam’s hips, fear on his face. “Sam?” he asked in a panicked voice. _Oh, Father, had the bond, the Grace been too much?_ “Sam!” 

Sam’s back arched upwards and he gasped loudly. His eyelids jerked open and revealed them to have changed from hazel orbs to pools of swirling, golden light. Gabriel tumbled to the side just as Sam collapsed back onto the bed, panting heavily. 

“Sam!” Gabriel said, hands on Sam’s chin and forcing his face towards him. After a moment he opened his eyes once again; normal hazel eyes peered up at the concerned angel and blinked several times. 

“Gabe…you okay?” Sam asked in concern, feeling incredibly winded, but also exhilarated. He had the same adrenaline rush coursing through him that he got when a monster got a little to close in a fight. 

“Yeah, Sammich, I’m fine,” Gabriel said, trying to quell the fear that had churned his stomach momentarily, replacing it with relief. 

Sam felt this warmth around his soul, a comforting blanket of starlight that seeped deep into his bones and muscles but felt natural. Unlike the nightmares he’d had where Lucifer had taken his body and froze him from the inside out, Gabriel’s Grace was light and fun and _warm_. “Is that…you?” 

“Yeah, Sasquatch, that’s all me,” Gabriel said with a grin. 

“Why are you freaked out?” Sam asked, hand on his stomach as he felt the fear coiling around in his belly. 

“Uh, you sorta…stopped breathing?” 

“What?!” 

“You started right back up,” Gabriel said quickly in reassurance. “I think I might have overloaded your circuits. Sorry.” 

Sam glanced down at himself, even wiggled his toes, just to make sure he was still all there and in working order. “Uh, well, looks like I’m alright. Hey, how come that didn’t happen the first time we slept together?” 

“What?” Gabriel asked as he nuzzled into Sam’s side, the hunter automatically wrapping his arms around the smaller man. _Holy shit, Sam’s my mate. Holy shit, Sam--is-my- **mate**!_

Sam motioned towards the windows as a crisp wind passed over them, making him shiver slightly. With it came the scent of salt water and the sound of boat horns in the distance, along with cars, sirens, typical city sounds. 

“Oops,” Gabriel said tiredly, a tired snap replacing the glass and returning power back to the several apartment buildings that had been knocked out in his moment of passion. “Sam, you think I couldn’t figure out in a few millennia how to have fun without breaking every fragile thing and knocking out the power in a several mile radius? Michael and Raphael might have thought me dead, but I’m pretty sure a show like that would catch even their _oblivious_ attention.” 

“What was…different this time?” Sam asked, curiosity starting to get overwhelmed by the need to sleep. He was exhausted and sore, but in every best possible way. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting up and having to take a shower to wash off the sweat and drying stripes of cum. Gabriel could snap them clean, which he did, and they snuggled under a heavy blanket. 

“Like I said, we’re doing this right. I…. uh, well, I couldn’t, really hold back.” 

Sam pulled him into a tight hug before his left hand trailed over Gabriel’s scarred arm in an affectionate way. It could’ve just been the candlelight, but the scarring over the arm didn’t look so bad anymore. The light coming through the skin—Grace, Sam realized—almost seemed to wrap around him fingers like little wisps of living smoke. “So, we’re now officially bonded?” 

“Yes indeedie. We’re mates now, Sam.” 

Even in the darkness, Sam’s smile could outpace the sun a thousand times over. He gripped the angel tightly; as if afraid it was just a dream. “I missed you, Gabe.” 

Gabriel’s eyes softened as he saw the hunter’s eyelids begin to droop in exhaustion. “Me, too, Sam. I, uh, hehe, hope you don’t wake up wondering what ruffie I slipped you,” the angel said jokingly. 

“Never could regret…being your mate,” was all Sam said—within a moment he was snoring. Gabriel simply grinned and felt the human’s soul absorb his Grace, accept it and let it get soaked into the cracks that had appeared in Sam’s soul over his life. Though a little tarnished and it had taken a hell of a beating over his life, Sam’s soul was still one of the most amazing and beautiful things Gabriel had seen in his very, very long lifetime. 

For once, Gabriel felt completely at ease—he’d never felt so completely comfortable, safe even, ever since he’d run from Heaven. Despite being a God, an Archangel, and despite Sam being a mere human, there was something about being surrounded by those long, strong arms that made him _want_ to fall asleep—sleep without a worry in the world for the first time in a very long time. 

Even his arm didn’t seem to hurt as much. 


	12. Chapter 12

Sam was woken up by a slobbery wet tongue lapping at his face and he was _pretty sure_ it wasn’t Gabriel. Well, mostly sure it wasn’t, anyway. 

“Sorry…nah, not sorry,” Gabriel said as Sam sputtered awake, attacked by a ferocious terrier hungry for belly rubs and morning kisses. His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischievous way as he watched Sam fight off the vicious beast enough to sit up. “Rascal wanted to say hi to Daddy #2!” He could feel Gabriel’s Grace inside him--was essentially cackling deviously. 

“You can just call me Sam,” he reassured the canine and he scratched Rascal’s back. He leaned forward and kissed Gabriel—across the bond contentment and general happiness flickered between them. He found himself peppering kisses on the archangel’s lips, as if each one made the bond that thrummed deep in his bones more permanent, more tangible, and more believable. Gabriel was more than happy to oblige the hunter, reassurance ringing through the connection they shared. 

Rascal let out an excited yip before jumping a few times, unable to contain his enthusiasm in his small frame. He shook and barked and his tail wagged almost fast enough to create a breeze. 

“I may or may not have waxed poetic about you from time to time,” Gabriel admitted with an easy grin. “So, I’m sure he’s just as glad about this as we are.”

“Poor bastard,” Sam said in pity, scratching at the course fur between his ears as Gabriel pouted. It felt so much like a dream—finally together with Gabriel—hell he even had a dog that was his to dote on and play with! Was it really only two weeks ago that Carthage happened?

Was it really only a few days ago that he was seriously trying to kill the archangel he now found himself idly entwining their fingers together?

“Your Dad has a weird ass sense of humor,” Sam mumbled, leaning in close and nibbling Gabriel’s exposed neck. He hummed contently. 

“Where else did you think I got my charming personality and delightful sense of humor _from_?” 

Sam sat up and looked around the room for the first time and froze. He blinked several times in apparent confusion, which made Gabriel suddenly tense up. “Sam?”

“Oh my….Are those your wings?” Sam asked in an awed hiss. 

Gabriel followed Sam’s eyes as they traveled around the room, obviously looking at something with that radiant look of delight on his face. “You can see them now?”

“How can I not? They’re all over the place!” Sam exclaimed. 

Gabriel snorted. “You see an Archangel’s wings for the first time and _that’s_ what you have to say about it? So very elegant.” 

Before they were wisps, barely-there mirages of smoke or fog. Now he could see the wings, and they were lazily stretched from Gabriel’s back like feathered ribbons draping the bedroom. There were multiple wings, easily more than two like Dean had described seeing from Castiel. They looked like bird’s wings but were also more ethereal, as if not quite there completely…?

_Glass_. That’s what the feathers looked like, stained glass windows. There were whites that made virgin snow look yellow, browns and golds and silver and black speckles that reminded Sam of falcons and hawks, but all see-through like glass. And the size of them! Some feathers were almost as long as Sam was tall! The closest wing was draped over the bed like a blanket, and the end of the wing curled up at Sam and wiggled. It took the hunter a second to realize Gabriel was waving at him. 

“They’re amazing!” Sam said in awe, immediately reaching out to touch the feathers closest to him. “How in the world to do you move around with these things?” The wings easily stretched the entire length of the room. 

“Just tuck them away into a little pocket dimension when I don’t need them,” Gabriel said with a shrug. The movement sent a ripple through the rest of the wings, and the entire room was a sea of quivering glass feathers. Sam touched the longest one and couldn't even describe it to himself—soft like down but sharp, hard like steel yet yielding like liquid. The feathers looked so fragile, yet he had no don’t this was as much a weapon as anything. 

Gabriel let out a little sigh, and Sam felt the thrill of touch run through the bond. “Didn’t feel like tucking them away last night. It’s been a while since they had a good stretch.”

“What’s this?” Sam said, noticing marks upon each feather that he had first assumed was the sun reflection, but the flashes of light he saw seemed steadfast even when the wings shifted. The marks almost looked like…writing? Sam had always thought the Elvin scrawl in the Tolkien books was beautiful, art in every sense of the word, but these scripts made those look like kindergartner chicken scratch. He felt this unbelievable sense of awe just looking at those odd, glowing marks. 

“It’s the mark of the Archangel,” Gabriel said easily. “Father’s Commands are etched into every feather. We are literally Dad’s messengers, after all.” 

“Oh, my…so, this is the Bible? The original one?”

“That’s just one of many human translations, Sam. This is Dad Himself, transcribed fully when he was creating Creation itself.” A wing from the other end of the bed curled up towards Sam with the same boneless movement like an octopus’s tentacle, and showed him a stretch of feather. “That was Dad on Day 5 swearing because he couldn’t figure out what color to make the sky, and what color to make the grass. He changed his mind a few times about it.” 

Sam blinked at his mate. “That’s God swearing?”

“Dad had a mouth that could make a sailing sea-whore blush,” Gabriel said with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“…you’re shitting me.” 

“I am shitting you not, actually.” 

Sam knew that there was no way to ever know if Gabriel was telling the truth or not, but he still laughed at the idea of God getting frustrating putting the Earth together like some piece of furniture from Ikea. 

He kept running his fingers up the length of the feather, mindlessly petting it, and it seemed to quiver under him. Gabriel made another little contented noise. Sam looked at the angel, hands tucked behind his head and stretched out like a contented house cat next to him, eyes closed and a smirk on his face. The pale skin, the pudgy stomach, the scarring on the left arm (which didn’t look so bad in the soft morning light) the amber hair, the wings that shifted and curled around the bed in a possessive manner, _holy shit Gabriel is my **husband**_.

Sam ducked his head and pulled Gabriel into a kiss that was as much tempting and it was testing, assuring himself that this wasn’t a dream. This was real. _This is now my life_. 

“Well, since you haven’t run screaming in the other direction, I’m going to assume you haven’t come to your senses, then?” Gabriel teased. 

“If it means waking up like this every morning, hope I never do,” Sam agreed. 

“So, Sam, how are you feeling?” Gabriel asked, looking his mate over. 

“Fine. Better than fine, fantastic even. Haven’t felt this good in a long time. No aches, no pains, no stress, no anything,” he flopped back onto the bed and just wanted to sink into its soft embrace. He didn’t even feel sore from last night!

“Do you feel…different?”

Ah, the real question, the one that Gabriel had probably been mulling over all night. Even with the Grace connection, he probably could only tell so much, and he didn’t overstep his boundaries by prying. It was a good question though, and Sam thought about it for a moment. 

He leaned up on his elbows and let out a small nod, because he did feel different. The warm blanket of Grace wrapped around his soul, he could feel that, but he also felt the familiar hum of electricity just under the surface of his skin. His whole body felt energized, buzzing with power. This power didn’t feel dirty—he didn’t have this feeling of soot being scrubbed into his skin. Instead, it was just there, and it wanted to be used for something, anything. 

He narrowed his eyes at the white vase-shaped lamp on the bedside table behind Gabriel and concentrated. 

It _exploded_ into a thousand pieces. 

Gabriel’s wings curled up to protect them from the flying shrapnel with lightning reflexes. Rascal barked in alarm and cowered behind Sam’s hip—he even shot the hunter a suspicious look. 

Gabriel arched an eyebrow at Sam, who shot him a sheepish grin. “I, uh, was trying to turn it _on_. Sorry.” He gave the dog a reassuring head scratch. 

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and the lamp was whole and unscathed once more, and his wings relaxed around them. “Well, that answers a few questions I had. We’re definitely going to work on that—I’d rather _not_ explode.”

A loud rumble sounded from Sam’s stomach. “Can we do that after breakfast?”

“That thing calls out any louder and you might start communicating with the whales in the bay,” Gabriel teased. “Sure, kiddo. Then a continuation of last night?”

“I vote for breakfast, sex, second breakfast, and more sex,” Sam said, counting off on his fingers. 

“Second breakfast? What are you, a hobbit?”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, a hobbit with gigantism.”

“Sam, no matter what species you are, you’ll always be a Sasquatch.” 

“Not my fault you picked a short-ass vessel.”

“He was perfectly tall for his time!” 

Rascal leapt from the bed with the grace of a gazelle and made for the door. Somehow, the dog successfully wove a path through the wings that surrounded them, even though Sam was sure the dog couldn’t   
actually see them. 

Well, pretty sure. That would be an interesting discovery. 

Rascal turned to give them a _Well, you coming?_ look. 

“Looks like we’re tabling this discussion ‘til later,” Sam said with a smile. Everything made him want to smile. 

“Haha, Sam Winchester’s whipped by a _dog_ ,” Gabriel snickered. 

“He’s _your_ dog, idiot,” Sam said, playfully shoving the Trickster out of his way so he could finally roll out of the bed. At this point he was fairly convinced was an actual cloud that Gabriel had made to look like a bed. 

“Gabe, what the hell is this?!” Sam demanded when he straightened up and caught a glimpse of his hip. On the right side was a…handprint? Burned right into the flesh over the hipbone, it looked eerily similar to the one Dean carried on his upper shoulder. 

“You’re mine, Sam,” Gabriel said, placing his hand on the print and a jolt ran through Sam’s body, making his dick twitch and a gasp escape him. 

“You still want breakfast first?” he asked Sam with a raised eyebrow. 

Sam’s stomach answered for him.

“Spoilsport,” Gabriel admonished, but he sighed and the sudden flurry of movement surrounding them almost made Sam dizzy. Gabriel’s wings sudden pulled backwards and started folding in on themselves again, and again, and again until they were flush with Gabriel back before disappearing into thin air. The room suddenly felt so much bare without them, and he realized why there was so little in the room to begin with. 

“You should feel honored, Sasquatch, not just anyone gets the chance to manhandle an Archangel’s wings. That’s like walking up to the President of the United States and fondling the family jewels,” Gabriel snickered at the look on Sam’s face. 

“Only you could make such an amazing thing sound that damn perverted.” 

“It’s a gift. Come on, let’s go feed you. You’re going to need your strength for what I’ve got planned for you, Sam!” 

Sam shivered in anticipation.

~*~

Sam watched Gabriel cook, feeling slightly guilty for not helping; the archangel wasn't allowing him in the kitchen while he worked. The hunter had to be content just sitting at the kitchen table half-naked and admiring from afar. Gabriel had snapped up a pair of comfy pajama pants without argument but Sam had decided to go shirtless, feeling lazy. The way Gabriel kept staring and licking his lips, though, Sam might as well have been sitting there butt-naked. 

“Don’t let the pancakes burn because you’re easily distracted,” Said teased. He had to admit, the white tank top and red silk boxers Gabriel liked to don were starting to grow on him. His hand drifted over the hand print seared into his hip, the tips of the fingers peeking over the waistband of his pants. 

“Ye of little faith, much? Archangel/Pagan God here, _pretty_ sure I can cook a bunch of pancakes without screwing up.”

“Now you’ve jinxed it,” Sam said. Sure enough, tendrils of smoke started to curl around the outermost edges of the pancakes.

Gabriel shot him an accusatory glare. 

“What? I didn’t do anything, that’s all you.”

Dating a Trickster meant that there was always a little bit of extra theater in everything, and serving pancakes was no different. Gabriel flipped the pancakes high into the air and caught them on a platter behind his back, giving an elegant little bow to Sam as he presented their breakfast.

“Sans magic,” Gabriel said proudly. With another snap there was suddenly mountains of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and assorted fruits scattered around on the table before them. A little vase also appeared with a flower in it. For some stupid reason that little flower in the vase made Sam almost blush with happiness. The entire thing was surprisingly homey. 

“Damn, you sure you didn’t mojo these?” Sam asked when he took his first bite and the pancake melted on his tongue, the sweetness perfectly balanced with the bitter dark chocolate chips Gabriel had sprinkled into the batter. He practically groaned from the pancake. “I don’t remember them being this good, even the ones you made before.”

The archangel had finished pouring at least a fourth of a bottle of syrup on his stack before digging in with enthusiasm. “I decided to pull out all the stops after last night. I’ve picked up a few tricks over my time on Earth—killer pancakes are simply one of my many talents.”

“I’m going to get fat on these,” Sam said, a playful scowl on his face. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes and waved a hand vaguely in the air. “There. Now they have the same nutritional value as kale. Happy?”

“Exceptionally,” Sam said as he dug in with gusto. Gabriel took a plain pancake and fed bits to Rascal, who was waiting patiently at their feet.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Sam asked halfway through his plate of eggs and bacon. Gabriel stole a half-eaten one off of Sam’s plate (even though he had more than enough on his own plate) and made a show of licking the syrup from his fingers; Sam squirmed in his seat, not wanting to get distracted from a pretty important discussion. “I mean, Dean’s going to flip about us.”

“Don’t tell him,” Gabriel said simply. 

“…Are you kidding?”

Gabriel shrugged. 

“Oh, God, you aren’t kidding. Look, we’re essentially _married_ , right? I can’t keep that from Dean! He’ll catch on, and believe me, it’s a thousand times worse when he figures something out on his own than if I just come out and own up to anything. After Ruby we had to make the deal between ourselves—no more secrets. It was the only way we could trust each other.”

Gabriel held up his hands. “There’s a method to my madness, Sam. 1, you’re family doesn’t trust me, and I get that (*cough* even though I saved their _asses_ *cough*). I’d like to at least try and get on their good side first before we drop this particular bomb; self-preservation does apply here, I won’t lie. 2, nothing’s changed, so there’s no point in calling attention to it.”

“‘Nothing’s changed’?” Sam asked, feeling irritated. “It’s all changed! What if we’re in the middle of a fight and I summon another angel blade?”

“Then we’ll sit Dean down and explain to him what happens when an Archangel and Human love each other very much. Actually, we might want to have that discussion sooner rather than later…you know, when I had you guys trapped in T.V. Land, I almost locked them in a Rom Com to see if they’d get a clue.”

“Thank God you didn’t, we’d still be there.”

“Yeah, I’m not that particularly patient,” Gabriel admitted with a shrug. 

Sam gave his lover a sideways stare. “Where would I have gone? Fuck, not another STD commercial?”

Gabriel smacked Sam on the shoulder. “Nah, something much more awesome! ‘Casa Erotica 13—the Sasquatch that Shagged Me’,” Gabriel said in his best announcer’s voice, and Sam couldn’t help the snickers that were forced out of him. 

“Look, back to the issue at hand. What do you mean, nothing’s changed?”

“You’re still Sam Winchester, hunter. I’m still Loki, the Trickster. If I want to stay alive I have to keep up the cover so no one gets suspicious." 

“Which means I need to stay with Dean, keep up appearances?” The idea of motel rooms and fast food suddenly wasn’t as appealing as before (not that it ever was before but now it really wasn’t). Especially now that there was a dog to love and an angel that could make killer food. 

“We both know you weren’t going to just drop everything and run away with me,” Gabriel said. “As much as I’d like to encourage such reckless behavior…” The angel did look a little sad at the idea, and Sam didn’t need to feel the Grace in him tighten to know Gabriel really didn’t want Sam to leave. “You’ll still be hunting with your brother, I’ll still be giving out just desserts. Nothing’s changed.”

Sam shuddering involuntarily, and took a little breathe. “Gabe, when you left, I felt like I was detoxing from demon blood all over again. Shakes, headaches, mood swings. Last time you left I almost died. Now that we’re actually bonded, won’t that actually kill me, us even?”

“We were separated under bad terms, Sam, and that reflected in the bond. I was upset, you were upset feeling how much I was upset—it’s a loop. It was like we were playing ping-pong with a bomb. It was bound to get messy sooner or later.”

“But, parting on good terms will be okay?”

“Missing someone hurts, Sam, but it’s not deadly. Besides, I’ll kidnap you often enough for fun, sexy times that it won’t be so bad.” 

Sam looked at Gabriel carefully. “You’re worried about Michael too, right?” The Grace inside him tightened just a little, but whether it was fear or possession Sam wasn’t sure. 

“Yeah,” Gabriel admitted after a moment. “If a pagan Trickster goes missing at the same time the God Squad realizes I’m alive and start looking for me, it’ll just draw their attention. So, we’ll play it cool and hide in plain sight.” 

Sam ran a hand over his face. “I thought I was done running from them.”

“You are. I managed it for several thousand years—wonder if I should submit that for Guinness Book of World Records?”

“What happens if they find you?”

Gabriel didn’t look at him, but he felt a touch of fear constrict around him. “They’ll take me back and probably do everything they can to turn me back into Gabriel the Archangel. I don’t want that, Sam.”

Gabriel took a breath. “Earth…it’s my home now. My work’s here, my dog’s here, and you’re here,” he said. Though he had started shakily, he had finished with conviction in his voice. The idea of Heaven, what was once his home, seemed dull and shallow in comparison to Earth’s beauties, to the man sitting next to him. To his mate. 

Sam opened his arms and gave a comforting hug to the smaller man. “They’ll never get you. You’ve got the Winchesters on your side, Gabe—you’ll be safe.” 

Sam wasn’t exactly sure how the bond worked completely, but he tried to share as much comfort and love as he could—after a few minutes Gabriel’s tensed body relaxed, and he pulled away looking less scared and more normal. “Thanks,” was all he said. 

“So,” Sam said after a few minutes, deciding to change the subject. “What do I do about this Grace? Exploding lamps aren’t not exactly subtle if you want to stick to your ‘hiding in plain sight’ plan.”

A smile spread from ear to ear on Gabriel’s face and he started bouncing in his seat from the excitement. “Actually, I’ve got the perfect plan!”

“Which is…?”

“I, Gabriel the awesome Archangel want you, Sam, the extra hot hunter, to practice your new skill set by…drum roll please… _playing pranks on Dean!_ ” 

Slow blinking was followed by a bark of incredulous laughter. “Do _what_?”

“Don’t give me that look; would you honestly expect any other type of suggestion from me?”

“But…how would that even work?” Sam asked, still laughing at the utter ridiculousness of the idea. 

Gabriel smirked. “Sam, you just killed Lucifer, the biggest bad we had on this planet (which is not in peril for once). You need to relax now, enjoy life a little! Pulling off little pranks of Dean will be a fun way to figure out what you can actually do. Besides, you told me about all those pranks he’s pulled on you over the years. You can’t tell me you’re not interested in a little payback.” 

Flashbacks played in Sam’s mind: 

_The Nair in his shampoo._

_The itching powder in his underwear._

_The creepy clown doll that kept showing up in Sam’s duffel bag no matter how many times he tried to leave it behind until he chucked it from the backseat out the window as they drove through the Mojave Desert._

Dean _still_ thought it was hilarious to ask Sam if he’d seen it in his bag recently.

Okay, maybe Gabriel had a point with such a suggestion. 

“Come on, Sam, it’ll be fun! You can just blame ‘lil old me! Dean will piss and moan and threaten to kill me, but he won’t question it. Or, bonus points, make ‘em look like accidents, bad luck. You’re creative.”

“You’re plan shouldn’t have merit…why does it have merit?”

“Because you know I’m ri~ight!” Gabriel said in a sing-song voice, gloating essentially. “There’s a Trickster in you, Sam, and I’m going to get him out!”

Sam mulled over it for several minutes, but a smirk started to grow over his face. 

“Alright, Gabe, you win,” Sam said over Gabriel’s gleeful whooping. Even Rascal added a bark of approval. Sam could feel the joy in Gabriel’s Grace and simply let himself get swept away with it, grinning at all the terrible pranks he’d been itching to pull on his big brother for years. 

“I knew you’d see things my way! Now, enough talk! I say we have some fun, Sammy, then your training begins, my young _apprentice_.”

“Whatever,” Sam said with a grin, kissing the top of Gabriel’s head before wandering down the hallway to the bathroom to take care of his ‘human needs’ as Gabriel called them before. When he returned he saw the angel leafing through a Weekly World Newspaper, snickering to himself. 

“Ooh, that’s a good one!....hm, a little tweaking and that’s not a bad idea either….” 

Sam wrapped his arms around his mate’s chest, pressing his back against the Trickster and nuzzling the back of his neck. He simply breathed—Gabriel didn’t have this sweaty, earthiness to him that Sam now noticed most people had. He just smelled like the air after a thunderstorm, or a brisk autumn morning. 

Sam’s hands started roaming all over Gabriel’s chest, feeling the soft flesh there, an interesting compliment to the muscles Sam had developed over years of hunting and hard-living. The fact that the flesh was a deceptive front to the real power Gabriel wielded only added to Sam’s fascination with it. Of course, it could’ve just been that it was Gabriel he was holding onto, touching, and that meant it was automatically fascinating to the human. 

The hunter nibbled his way over Gabriel’s exposed neck, and his hands started roaming lower and lower, desire and lust making the bond vibrate like a plucked string. 

“Actually, Sam, there’s a very important thing I have to ask you,” Gabriel said, and Sam broke away. 

“What’s that?”

“For breakfast, are you a bacon fan?” Gabriel whirled around on the stool and Sam gawked at Gabriel’s sudden complete nakedness, his dick fully erect against his stomach, a little fake mustache on his upper lip, its crookedness coming from being hastily slapped on. 

“Oh, God, Gabe don’t—“

“Or are you a fan of… _kielbasa_?” the Trickster asked with a terribly fake accent Sam couldn’t even try to place. Sam couldn’t think, he couldn’t even breathe—he actually had to sit on the floor he was laughing so hard. Gabriel’s laughter was infectious--Sam’s ribs started hurting after he kept trying to gain control of his snickering only to be sent into howls of laughter after catching sight of Gabriel once again. The Trickster looked mighty pleased with himself. 

“Come on, Sam, this is a very important question,” Gabriel admonished. “What’s your answer?”

When Sam got on his knees before him with his eyes almost black with lust, Gabriel got his answer. Just not in so many words.

~*~

Gabriel was standing between the end of the enormous bed and the row of tall windows. Sam was in front of him with his back to the windows and their panoramic view. Both were fully dressed and the angel looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Even the Grace inside Sam was vibrating with hype. 

Gabriel turned back to address the little terrier who was sitting on the end of the bed and watching them.

“Rascal, you might want to sit this one out. I don’t care if Sam takes uncontrolled, magical pot-shots at me—more than likely I’ll survive ‘em. I’d hate to see something happen to you, my fuzzy little amigo.”

Rascal cocked his head as though mulling it over, then proceeded to lay down but his eyes never left them. 

“It’s pretty bad when your dog has more faith in me than you do,” Sam said, unable to keep a nervous chuckle from escaping him. 

“Rascal isn’t stupid. He knows I can just revive him,” Gabriel said with a shrug. 

They’d chosen the bedroom to be their practice room because it had the least amount of breakable and priceless artifacts scatted about it. Gabriel also made the executive decision that Sam couldn’t face the windows—partially so Sam still didn’t know where they were, but mostly so he didn’t smash out the glass on accident.

“Alright, let’s start with the most important part of being a Trickster,” Gabriel said without preamble, holding up his hand. “The Snap.”

“The snap? Seriously?”

“Yes, is there an echo in here? Look, it’s important for a lot of different reasons. Mostly it helps condense and concentrate my Grace into doing exactly what I want when I need it without overkill, which you desperately need to learn. When you were using demon blood, you had to basically squeeze out as much juice as possible to exorcise a demon—with Grace you have an overabundant supply now, so we need to retrain you into reigning in your power.”

“Is that why I always had those headaches? Strain?”

“Yep. It also doesn’t help that it was demon blood; newsflash Sam, it’s tainted by _pure evil_. That stuff was trying to poison you and your body was trying to keep it under wraps.”

Sam’s eyes became downcast. “Never again. I promise,” he said quietly.

Gabriel lifted Sam’s face up a little. “I know, Sam. Now, back to the lesson at hand. Think of the snap as the trigger to your Grace gun. Pull the trigger, fire a bullet. Snap, shit happens. Capiche?”

“Yeah, makes sense. What’s your other reason?” Sam asked, curious. 

“It’s dramatic! A bit of theater, I will admit, but that’s half the fun of the job! There’s no telling what you’re about to do, and it makes people pay attention—makes them afraid.” Gabriel readied his fingers to snap and had his trademark smirk in place. Sam was immediately assaulted with memories of when he and Dean were on the receiving end of that snap.

“First of all, I’m not becoming an actual Trickster, Gabe. I’m just goofing off a bit to figure out what I can do, now. Secondly, I thought the whole idea was to prank Dean without getting caught. Snapping fingers are the opposite of that.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot more subtle than _this_ ,” Gabriel said, striking a pose. He had his right arm stretched out before him as though trying to reach for something just out of arm’s length. His face was screwed up in a concentrated/constipated scowl, and he had his other hand cradling his head. It was a perfect mimic of the pose Sam unconsciously took when exorcising a demon via the blood. 

“Shit, is that what I actually looked like?” Sam asked, cheeks coloring slightly as he laughed. “Now I’m wondering if those demons smoked out of their meat suits in pity because I looked so pathetic. What if—what if I tried it with a blink? Or a word?”

“Like what? ‘ShaSam?’ Yeah, that’s subtle. Just do the snap,” Gabriel grumped.

Rolling his eyes, Sam held up his hand. “What do you want me to do?”

“How about…turn on that lamp?” he said, pointing to the recovered victim from earlier.

“You really have something against that lamp, don’t you?”

“Just like shooting a gun, Sam. Concentrate on what you want to happen, then snap your fingers to make it happen,” Gabriel coached. He took a step back, allowing an unobstructed view of the lamp in question. 

Rascal looked on, tail wagging slowly. Sam took a breath, gathered the electricity humming under his skin, and snapped. 

The lamp clicked on, but only stayed on for five seconds before the light bulb shattered.

Sam dropped his hand in discouragement, but Gabriel actually gave him a few claps and Rascal barked. “Not bad, Sam! I’m glad you’re a quick study—a few more days and I feel that you’ll be able to prank Dean without killing him. Resurrecting him constantly would be a pain in the ass.”

_A few more days like this—that sounds perfect_ , Sam thought with a content smile when Gabriel’s Grace agreed with him. 

~*~

“Gabriel, can I ask you a question?” Sam asked slowly. 

“You just did,” Gabriel pointed out, voice partially muffled because his face was buried in Sam’s side. The lights of the cityscape gleamed brightly out the windows. They were curled around each other under the sheet, bodies worn out but in the best way possible. 

Sam smacked the archangel’s shoulder playfully. 

“It better be a pretty important question if you feel you need to interrupt post sex-cuddles to ask,” Gabriel said gruffly. 

“Why me?” as all Sam said, voice low in the quiet, darkened room. A snort from the end of the bed reminded him to keep his voice low—Rascal was sleeping on the far corner of the bed on his back, legs in the air which kicked once in a while. He liked to let himself in when Gabriel and Sam weren’t in the middle of awesome celestial sex and snuggle between them. Sam couldn’t even be annoyed at the little guy.

Gabriel dragged his eyes up to look at Sam. “You?”

“Yeah, me. Why me? I just—I don’t get it. I’m a hunter, I’ve killed people before. I have anger issues and family issues out the ass. I’m an ex-demon blood junkie and I’ve tried to kill you before. So, what was it about me that made your control slip? To want to make a bond with me?”

Gabriel tenderly stroked Sam’s face, a grin on his own. “You’re a good man, Sam. Yeah, you tried to kill me, but when you had me cornered you didn’t try to hurt me in revenge. Much. You just begged for your brother back. You have anger issues, but you’re also compassionate. You drank demon blood which, I’ll admit, is pretty frigging gross, but you didn’t do it for power. You did it in order to help the people possessed by the demon in question. You’re a good man, and you’re amazing in bed—do I need more of an excuse?”

Sam grinned. “But, you’re an Archangel, the blood—“

“—was a means to an end in a desperate situation. You put in the time to detox, willingly. You’ve made bad choices, but you’re always searching for redemption—that’s something I understand more than most. That’s something I can offer you.” 

Gabriel put his hand over Sam’s heart. “You’ll never be plagued again, Sam. Yet another perk to add to the list of sleeping with an Archangel. When you took on my Grace, it completely purified you—the blood will never tempt you again.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “That—that’s—“

“You’re welcome,” Gabriel said with a dismissive wave of his hand, as though it wasn’t a big deal. Across the bond Sam felt nothing but comfort and love, which he returned through a powerful hug. 

“Thank you, so much,” Sam said as sincerely as humanly possible. To not have that fear plucking at the back of his mind every day—the vague feeling of nausea, of fuzzy-headedness, of feeling like he had to tip-toe around his own brother and adoptive father because he didn’t want them jumping down his throat ever again. He felt human again, valuable again—interesting considering he had an Archangel’s Grace humming contently around his soul. 

“You’re worth it, Sam. Now, can we sleep? You really wore me out earlier.”

“Yeah, but…this is the same for you, isn’t it? I fell for you even though you’d done nothing but hurt me in the past. I forgave you. You ran, went against your own brother for me. I protected you. And even after you almost…you came back, made things right.”

Sam stroked the scarred arm as he spoke. “You need that, too, don’t you?” Sam said quietly. “A chance for redemption?”

Several moments of silence passed, until Sam was certain Gabriel had fallen asleep.

“…Maybe.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ah, the end to another long yet fun fic is always both a happy and bittersweet moment. I really hope you've enjoyed this part 3 to the Trickster's Apprentice series! There's one final part to this series, called "Wager," and hopefully it'll be up in a few months. January is going to be devoted to my attempt at writing a debut novel, so fics will be on hold until then!
> 
> I really hope that, if you've enjoyed this fic and series in general, you'll let me know with comments, feedback, etc. What did you like, what do you think will happen next, what do you want to see? I take my reader's words into consideration when writing these fics, and would love to see what you think of the works in general!
> 
> If you subscribe to me, or subscribe to this story, I'll update this fic with a new chapter announcing the next story when the first chapter goes up. Until then, feel free to check out my other stories to pass the time. Thanks for reading!


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